Thursday, 24 March 2011

Another one about the Hillfort Glow Experiment...

I'm just posting this article as a kind of addendum, because this one has pictures that actually show some of the hillforts and the signals. There aren't many pictures, but it does show just how successful the experiment was:

Iron Age hillforts glow with journey back in time

Pretty damn cool.

Tuesday, 22 March 2011


In Scottish tradition it's the new moon that's celebrated the most - that first sliver in the sky (known as gob soillse - ’the bill or beak of the light’) that heralds the waxing of the moon, and the period when lots of things can be done under more propitious circumstances; sowing seeds, getting married, setting out on journeys, cutting your hair. This is a time of increase and growth, and Alexander Carmichael recorded quite a few traditions and prayers dedicated to that first glimpse of the new moon. In Gaol Naofa, we celebrate the new moon with a ritual.

If the waxing moon is all about growth and increase, the full moon is the culmination of all this, and is known as bolg reothairt - ’the swollen womb of the spring tide.’ I have to admit I find the moon fascinating, and whenever I see it, I greet it, quietly to myself (because people would probably think I'm a bit mental otherwise). So all in all, the supermoon this weekend was something I was looking forward to.

Mr Seren and I were invited to a party this weekend, a kind of informal gathering in honour of the supermoon and the equinox, so we dumped the kids at the in-laws for the night and off we went. There was food and drink, and good lots of laughter, and since the host of the party is Wiccan I took the opportunity to bring over a load of old books I've had sitting on the wardrobe shelf since we moved here three years ago - I was hoping she'd give them a good home, or knew some folks who would if she didn't want them.

We didn't get to see the moon rise because there was too much cloud cover, but around 10pm or so the clouds cleared a little so we got to see the moon shining bright:

At around midnight we went outside with some Chinese lanterns that our hosts had bought - everyone was invited to choose one and write a wish on it, to send it off into the night sky, and I think most of us did. It was too windy to light the lanterns in view of the moon (Mr Seren's lantern went first and ended up in a bush for a while) so we had to take shelter round the back of the tenement building. Because of the wind it took a while to get them lit, and seeing as we had only two lighters between us all, they had to go off one by one. I waited patiently...:

...while mine was lit as I held onto it gently - we had to hold them pretty close to the ground for the fire to take. It had a bit of a bumpy start, but Mr Seren's friend Tam rescued it and managed to get it off the ground for me. I chose an orange lantern, but this red one here is the last one we all did together (except Mr Seren, who was in charge of the camera):

And off it went into the night with the others.

This is the start of my celebrations for Latha na Cailliche, really. I don't usually make much of a fuss - some offerings and devotions to the Cailleach and the Cailleachan - but I don't usually get to celebrate with other people either, so it was good to find a little bit of community, even if we were all from different paths.

When we got home that night I went straight off to bed, and didn't get much sleep thanks to my back and left leg not appreciating the journey in the car to much. I gave up trying to sleep and got up early, and as I pottered about in the kitchen, saw that one of the busy lizzies I've sown for the hanging basket had sprouted. Because of my recent back problems I haven't been able to do much in the garden yet, so this is the only sowing I've done so far. It was good timing to see that tiny sprout, although I'm hoping I'll be able to get around to doing more sowing for the vegetable garden soon.

Spring is definitely here, even if we did have snow, hail and sleet only last week.

Speaking of the Cailleach, I received a letter from Perth and Kinross Council acknowledging receipt of my objection about the proposed hydro-electric scheme that will affect Tigh nam Bodach etc. Very formal and stern it is, too, but I'll be informed of the council's decision in due course, although it didn't say when that might be.

Monday, 21 March 2011

'Hillfort Glow Experiment' hailed a success

I posted an article last month about an experiment that was being planned in Wales and England to see if Iron Age hillforts could easily communicate with each other using fire.

The test was held this weekend, taking advantage of the full moon, and has been hailed a success by archaeologists according to the Beeb:

About 200 volunteers stood on the summit of 10 hillforts in north Wales, the Wirral and Cheshire, and signalled to each other with torches.

Their aim was to learn if communities used the summits to warn each other.

"It was a success," said archaeologist Erin Robinson. "It captured the public's imagination and we made extra links we did not think were possible."

There's another, shorter article here.

Tuesday, 15 March 2011

Follow up on Tigh nam Bodach

Update: At the present time, the planning application has been withdrawn. Please see this post here, and this one as well for more information.

With an afternoon to myself and my continuing orders to 'be active, but not too active' while I take a cocktail of medication that makes me want to do nothing more than curl up in the foetal position (if only I could), I've taken the opportunity to do some research into the proposed hydro-electric scheme in Glen Lyon. I ended up deciding that instead of moaning about it and being morally outraged here on my blog, I should write a letter of objection instead. So I did. Or rather, I emailed it.

My objections included:
  • Gleann Cailliche is one of the few undisturbed areas left in Scotland, and as such the proposals wholly inappropriate
  • The proposed pipeline will run through otherwise intact blanket bog habitats, which are rare and said to be of 'international ecological significance' (page 4). As such, I believe the ecological impact on an area of 'high conservation value' to be unacceptable, should the proposals be given the go-ahead
  • Tigh nam Bodach is a unique site and the traditions associated with it are an important part of the local character as well as being a part of Scotland's cultural heritage. The peaceful and undisturbed location of the glen is an integral part of what makes the place so unique and special; such an intrusive development will compromise the site and the traditions, and potentially damage it
  • Given the fact that there will be pylons, poles, cables, weirs, powerstations, and so on, built as part of the scheme in an otherwise relatively untouched glen, the visual impact on the area will be significant, insensitive and intrusive 
For anyone particularly interested, you can look up the proposals yourself here, by entering the relevant reference code - 11/00061 - which will take you through to the details. So far two letters of objection are listed, including one from the Killin Heritage Society, who look after Tigh nam Bodach, but I've heard that others have sent in comments as well.

Who knows what will happen, but I'm hoping for the best...

    A tale of a different kind

    I thought I'd post this tale, which I found in Grant Stewart's Myth, Tradition and Story from Western Argyll, because it has some interesting similarities with MacKenzie's tale The Coming of Angus and Bride, and it's that time of year where it's still relevant. I don't know about where you are, but the Cailleach's putting up a pretty good struggle round here at the moment.

    Grant Stewart attributes the story to a Saxon-Hungarian woman named Malvina (whose name, she points out, will be "familiar to readers of Ossianic poems"), who she met in Romania:

    There was once a very great witch, who was head over other eight witches. She had a daughter-in-law, to whom she was very unkind. She was so hard upon her that she made her life miserable. One day she handed her son's young wife a fleece of a brown sheep, bidding her go wash it white before bringing it back to her. The daughter-in-law obeyed. She took it to a brook and washed it till she was weary, weeping as she did so because her work was all in vain. Old Winter came that way, and asked her why she wept. She told him of her mother-in-law's command. "Give it to me," said Winter, and taking the brown fleece from her he washed it white. Giving the fleece back with one hand, he held out in the other a bunch of 'vioréle' (blue flowers resembling our wild hyacinth, but without scent. They are the frst to bloom in Transylvania, when the snows begin to melt). "Take this to your mother-in-law," said Winter. "If she asks any question, hold up these flowers and say, 'The flowers are out on the mountain.' "

    The young wife returned home, handed the white fleece to her mother-in-law, and held up the buds, saying, "The flowers are out on the mountain." The old witch was enraged. She callled the other eight, and mounted on their goats, they rode off to the mountain. Borrowing three days from February, they began a fierce contest against all growth. Snow and hail, wind and rain were summoned to do battle, but the warm sun shone out, the south wind breathed, and Spring triumphed. The nine witches were turned into stone, and "there they sit," said Malvina, "on their goats, on the top of the mountain of Sílash in Temesvar; and on the anniversary of their defeat the fountains in their heads overflow, and their faces become blurred with weeping. My mother," added Malvina, "took me there to see them when I was a child of twelve."
     Grant Stewart, Myth, Tradition and Story from Western Argyll, 1925.

    Friday, 11 March 2011

    Book Review: Cauldron of the Gods: A Manual of Celtic Magick

    This book came up on the Nemeton list, and it piqued my interest as well as a few others. Having never heard of it before it was mentioned (and recommended) on the list, I decided to give it a go and see what it was about, and promised to share my thoughts about it once I was done.

    I suppose I should admit my bias upfront: I find very little relevance in anything to do with the neopagan literary field these days. Those books that I've read in the more recent past don't tend to agree with my approach or viewpoint, and tend to be full of historical holes that I find difficult to get around. Granted, my reading of such books has mainly been because I know they're so bad...*looks at Witta*

    But generally, neopagan books still tend to cater to a particular audience that I'm not a part of anymore. So with that in mind, and take that how you will, this is what I thought of the book:

    Cauldron of the Gods: A Manual of Celtic Magick
    Jan Fries

    As a reconstructionist, it's hard to find decent books that cater to such an audience, especially the beginner or seeker if they want to look further than the CR FAQ. Academic books can be dry and off-putting, and rarely offer anything in terms of ideas for how to actually start doing anything in a ready-to-go form. Aside from being off-putting, then, they can be frustrating too, as a starting point.

    In lieu of a lack of specifically CR 101 type books, some recons try looking elsewhere in the neopagan marketplace for something that might offer a sort of middle ground in the meantime. So as far as books are concerned, something that can offer good, solid information about the Celts, whilst dispelling any myths about potato goddesses, are always a plus. Some might feel that this book fits the bill, with a good dose of selective reading here and there, perhaps. I'm not sure I do, really, but I think I can see where they're coming from.

    I can kind of see why this book was recommended, especially for the refreshingly analytical tone of assessing previous notions about the Celts in general. I can also see that for someone who's more interested in druidry, or bardery, or filidecht than I am, then this book might offer more in the way of inspiration that it did for me. In that respect, I can't say if there are any other books out there that might be better suited to the beginner, but certainly I can say from an Irish perspective in particular (IMHO), better sources could have been used.

    Looking at the book on its own terms, as much as I can, I think that it's not, ultimately, about the Celts; the book is about self-transformation, and coming from an author who's described as a 'German occultist and freestyle shaman' on his Wikipedia page, that's not surprising, I don't think. It took me a while to realise this, though, but with hindsight the clue is in the title - the use of the word 'magick' - plus the fact that Crowley and his definition of 'magick' is mentioned on the first page...What can I say? Sometimes I'm just really slow...

    I suppose you could say the Celtic packaging of the book is simply a hook to reel you in, and give you the message that (it seems) the author really want to get across, about aligning oneself with your True Will. But then again, that makes the Celtic stuff in the book sound superficial, and I'm not sure I can really say that it is - there are over 500 pages here, and you do get quite a lot of information on the Celts. And unlike say, McCoy or DJ Conway, Fries actually bothers to do some research. Arguably, though, the 'Celtic stuff' is treated as a means to an end, a part of the journey to reach the desired result.

    For the beginner, who doesn't know much about the Celts at all, you'll learn a lot, and for the first few chapters it's all good stuff (with some quibbles here and there). As I began reading, I found it quite refreshing - a book! Aimed at neopagans! With actual research! Yes. There were a lot of exclamation marks to start with. But as I got further into it, I began to have more reservations about the way things are presented, and some of the interpretations the author gives.

    Once we get passed the first few chapters and the druids, there's a heavy emphasis on poetry, particularly that of Taliesin (or, as Fries points out, the probably several Taliesins that there really were). The book eases us into all of this, though - first we learn about Celts and Celts throughout history; then we go into things a bit deeper - learning about druids, the bards of Wales, the filid of Ireland, songs, charms and story-telling, and so on.

    As we go through the chapters we're given exercises to do - imagine this, imagine that, what do you think it was like? How does it measure up to the following information...There's a focus on knocking down pre-conceived ideas; historical fallacies, notions of druids prancing around in white robes; changes in academic approaches - from noble savages and builders of Stonehenge, to princely burials and the acceptance of the word 'Celtic' as a linguistic umbrella term, not a word that is meant to imply that all Celts are the same.

    Much of this is solid, and presented in a conversational and engaging tone, with a good smattering of irreverant humour here and there, along with some illustrations by the author himself that helps to break things up a little. I learnt a few bits about the lesser known Celtic cultures, and agreed with a lot of what the first few chapters had to say. It all started off so well...I started to get a bit excited.

    Deeper into the book, I started to have more and more problems with the approach and the content. It's not really clear where things are going, for one thing, even after the first couple of hundred pages. A few references to shamanism get thrown in (and I should say that I'm one of those who see it as a very culturally specific term, and not relevant to Celtic practice at all) until ultimately the reader is encouraged, if they so wish, to employ a few of the techniques we find in Siberian shaman initiation along our own journeys of self-realisation...This may be enough to put a fair few people off so much as touching the book with a bargepole, others may simply feel they can ignore it. I can say this made me feel deeply disappointed.

    But my problems go beyond just a few mentions of shamanism, or even the addition of theories mooted about gods-as-aliens and Iolo Morganwg into the mix (to be fair, Fries is clear that Iolo is a fraud; he argues that the work is inspirational and worth looking at, whereas personally I'd instinctively avoid it. Another bargepole moment). One of my biggest problems with the books' general approach is the way the Celts are ultimately presented - yes, 'Celtic' is an umbrella term - hurrah for this being recognised for once! But personally I see the various Celtic cultures as being more distinct than Fries presents them - the divides for him by and large seem to be Continental vs Insular (or 'Island,' as he puts it), so Ireland, Wales and Scotland often get lumped together. It's not something I can get on board with, to be honest, although if you wanted to pick and choose bits that are relevant to your cultural interests, you could. The main focus is Welsh, though, and there was very little for me - in terms of Irish or Scottish content - that was either new or interesting.

    But I'm getting ahead of myself...I mentioned there were exercises here and there. As we get deeper into the book, the exercises change. While the first exercises - meditations, really - focus on knocking down our own misconceptions about the Celts, the exercises begin to focus on the self, analysing ourselves and who we are. The exercises seek to impart betterment, fulfilling your potential, and various forms of hypnosis throughout its history are explored; neuro-linguistic programming is mentioned. At this point, having waded through approximately 375 pages, wondering where all this is going with very little clue, it occurs to me that the previous exercises, knocking down those fallacies about the Celts is really (it seems to me) just a subtle way of making the reader more receptive to analysing fallacies about themselves. As the book initially seeks to plunge us into the world of the Celts, giving us a clearer view, the table is turned onto ourselves.

    I don't have a problem with this in itself, really, except the exercises themselves couldn't really be described as 'Celtic,' or 'Celtic Magick,' I don't think, and as such I'm not sure it lives up to being a 'manual' of such. As the book goes on, it becomes less about anything Celtic, and more about the author's own vision, with bits from Norse, Germanic and Siberian practices are drawn into it more and more, along with further reference to Crowley and mention of Qabala, none of which seems to be particularly relevant to the purported cultural focus of the book. References are increasingly made to previous books by the author, especially Seidways. If you're interested in the basic premise of the book and want to pursue it - do the exercises, and so on - then it seems that this is not a standalone book. I'd find that a little annoying, if I'd bought the book for that purpose, because it's not made clear on the blurb. Otherwise, I can't help but feel you might as well crack open a good book on Celtic cultures, like Bernhard Maier's The Celts...Maier's is shorter than this one, for a start.

    Ultimately, while I'm given a good history lesson (although it's generally weaker on the Irish stuff than the Gaulish or Welsh - or what I know of the Welsh material involved here), I'm not really given much in the way of what practical applications might be as far as an actual Celtic religious practice might be. This isn't what the book promises, to be fair, but there's an awful lot of talk about it to start with - nemetons, burial practices, offerings, some reference to gods...But while it raises some hopes, it doesn't seem to lead anywhere.

    Really, I think the book needed a heavy-handed editor (and a proofreader - it really really needed a proofreader). The promise of the first few chapters didn't deliver as far as the rest of the book was concerned, and bore very little relevance to it aside from giving a good historical grounding in who the Celts are, or were. We're talking several hundred pages about the Gauls, to suddenly switch to the Welsh, a smattering about the Irish, a dollop of the Carmina Gadelica, and then suddenly Bob's apparently your Siberian Shaman uncle...

    I'd say it's certainly an interesting and unique book. Perhaps, for me, interesting because of its uniqueness than anything I really got from it.

    Wednesday, 9 March 2011

    Tigh na Cailliche, Glen Lyon, under threat

    UPDATE: At the present time, the planning application has been withdrawn. Please see this post here, and this one as well for more information.

    This is not good. Not good at all if the initial report I've seen is true.

    In the past few articles I've put up on the site I've made mention of Tigh na Cailliche - also known as Tigh nam Bodach - which is a site in Glen Lyon, Perthshire. This is a shrine nestled away in Gleann Cailliche; every year three stones, roughly shaped in human forms, which are known as the Cailleach, the Bodach and the Nighean, are taken out of their 'house' or shrine at Bealltainn, and then returned to their home for safekeeping over the winter at Samhainn. It's said that so long as the rite is observed faithfully each year, the area will prosper under the auspices of the Cailleach, who is said to have once lived there. So grateful was she for the hospitality given to her by the locals, she asked them to look after the shrine and faithfully carry out the ritual each Bealltainn and Samhainn, and she would make sure the crops would never fail, and the weather would always be favourable.

    Nobody knows for sure how old the tradition is, but it's something that's an integral part of the area's heritage and history. It's just been brought to my attention on a forum I lurk on that the area is now under threat after an application for a hydro scheme has been lodged:

    Planning permission was recently lodged for four hydro electric schemes that will forever transform the Gleann Cailliche and the surrounding landscape. Existing tracks will be upgraded to take heavy traffic. Power houses will be constructed, borrow pits dug and fresh tracks will be carved into the steeply sided slopes to weirs. An overhead power line will be run past the Tigh nam Bodach and down the side of Loch Lyon.

    It's unclear how the shrine might be otherwise affected, but understandably the locals are worried about its potential impact on the area, and there are other issues to consider as well - especially as far as some of the rare habitats that can be found there are concerned. This site here takes you on a tour of the area, so you can see what it's like.

    As the article I've linked to says, renewable energy schemes are always a good thing, but one has to question if this is the right place for it (putting it mildly, I think). These areas of natural beauty, rare habitats, and such historical traditions that are a part of Scotland's heritage should not have to be compromised or blighted by power lines for the sake of money. Because really, I think that's what it boils down to (but then, some might say I'm a cynic).

    I sincerely hope the application will be considered carefully and objectively, and that the right decision will be made in the end. The link above, to the Glenlyon History Society, gives an email address if you want to lodge your concerns or ask for more information.

    ETA: There's information here on planning policies for National Scenic Areas like Glen Lyon, which should be protected from inappropriate and intrusive developments, and there's a link on the page to a pdf study of the Loch Rannoch and Glen Lyon area that specifically raises concerns about developments like hydro-electric schemes in the area.

    ETA2: See also the Facebook Group.

    Sunday, 6 March 2011

    In search of the gods

    And so finally, I can lay another series of articles to rest...(I think).

    I've kind of gone about this arse backwards really, because this last article is all the usual introductory waffle that I think would be helpful to know when looking at the tales and so on, and probably should have come first, while the first bunch of articles I did should have come afterwards.

    There are two reasons for not having done this, though: I think that those first articles are probably more interesting to the majority of readers who aren't so interested in wading through my waffle, and in a way if you've read those articles and then go on to this one, it might have a bit more context to it. Secondly, I had a hard time writing this - the other articles came about because I had to take a break from this one, but I wanted (felt I had to, in a way) do something.

    Getting hold of some sources was a problem (of my own making, to be fair). Finding a source I initially thought was quite helpful, and then found out that it was written by a Celtic shameon-type who makes a living selling lies and sidelining in the occasional 'academic' article, which turned out to be quite shoddy when I found out and looked up some of the references...So that meant I had to have a rethink a little, and things have had a while to ferment. I have one person in particular to thank for setting me straight on both counts, and they know who they are, in case they want to remain nameless.

    It's not an easy kind of thing to write either, because the gods aren't an easy thing to talk about in the sense of reducing them into paragraphs. In a way, it's also difficult to write about this kind of subject because it's something that focuses on a historical perspective, with my usual habit of referencing pretty much every sentence just in case somebody wonders where that came from...Reconstructionists get accused of being too stuffy and academic; too caught up in books and what people with degrees say, and I do talk a lot about both on here, and synthesise a lot of what I find into the articles I write. Sometimes, maybe that accusation is fair enough.

    For some reason, though, I'm suddenly aware just how soulless all of this may seem, in a way, coming across as advocating a path of Citing Your Sources With Your Gods.

    Oh Lug of lofty deeds,
    Golden are the fields,
    Heavy hang the fruits,
    Ripeness of fame!

    We feast on this colcannon and chicken in your honour at this sacred time of Lughnasa, and give to you of our feast and these bilberries because that's what Maire MacNeill says is traditional in The Festival of Lughnasa, first published in 1962 by Oxford University Press...

    (Then you get a divine bitchslap - D-, must try harder - for not giving specific page numbers).


    Kicking about the internet, as I do, it seems that this is what a lot of people think of as Celtic Reconstructionism. I've seen CR described as too 'backward looking' (on a druid forum, no less); too caught up in books; something that's just made up by Americans so they can play Celtic; CR's not about practising a path, it's more about arguing about every minute detail to prove the size of one's metaphorical penis...With References.

    I try to avoid these things, although I guess I can't avoid being American (I'm just not, I'm on the wrong side of the Pond, for one thing). CR may have its origins there, but it's spread far and wide now (Germany, Portugal, France, Brazil, Australia, England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland...). I wouldn't say it's simply and only an American movement by any means, but these days it is a fractured one. But that's by the by.

    I have to say, though, I'm unashamedly backward-looking, in a sense. Yes, I see reconstructionism as something that's here and now, but for me, part of the point of reconstructionism is trying to understand how people saw the gods in the times when they were worshipped, and so yes, I look back because that seems be a logical thing to do if that's what you're aiming for.

    Books are not the be all and end all of reconstructionism, but it does require looking at the sources we have to hand to figure things out. And to do that, we have to look at sources that are often flawed, for one reason or another, so it means we have to be analytical. They don't answer every question we might have, necessarily, but they're a good start. So that involves getting involved, and that makes people opinionated, I guess, and there are quibbles over details. A lot of the times, this quibbling is pointless, but sometimes it's necessary. And yes, sometimes that can spill over into willy waggling on various email lists, but personally, I have no interest in the size of anyone's metaphorical penis...

    So when I write, the beginning's pretty much where I tend to start when I can, and if I put it out there and somebody finds it helpful, then I'm glad. History is not the be all and end all, it's the beginning of understanding for me. Where else should I look? But looking is nothing without doing. Even though not many reconstructionists talk publicly about what they do, for various reasons, that doesn't mean that people aren't out there actually living their path. Sometimes, beneath all the books, the quibbling, the perceptions of this and that (rightly or wrongly), that gets lost.

    In this case, then, in living and trying to find understanding, and trying to write about something that can only be understood very personally, in many ways, I find myself having written something from my own views as well as from the references I carefully copy out into a notebook before I start writing. In the end, the article is probably more opinionated than the more folkloric articles I've done in the past because this sort of thing has to be personal, I think. Writing always is. But sometimes moreso. And this makes me worry that I might not have articulated myself as well as I should have on some points. But oh well...

    I'm also aware that some of it covers similar grounds to Alexei's article Danu and Bile: Primordial Parents, so I've tried to avoid looking at that as a source and do my own legwork. And so then I ended up banging on for so long that I couldn't fit the article onto one page (I tried, and kinda borked the website for a bit the other night). Kinda like how I've blethered on here, too. Soooooo...

    The Gods - Part One
    The Gods - Part Two

    Wednesday, 2 March 2011

    De Gabāil in t-Sīda in-so Sīs

    On one of my last visits to the library I got a photocopy of Vernam Hull's translation of De Gabáil in t-Sída. Seeing as it's now out of copyright, and I haven't seen the translation online anywhere else with the Irish along with it, I thought I might as well copy it up (not like I'm going anywhere anytime soon, at the moment...).

    Anyway, the English is first, followed by the Irish, for reference. There are two versions of the tale, of different dates and linguistic styles but basically the same content. Hull's translation is from the older version from the Book of Leinster, which is probably ninth century in composition, and while he gives both of the Irish versions in the article, he only gives one translation so I've only given the relevant one (from the Book of Leinster):

    Here follows the Seizure of the Fairy Hill

    There was a famous king over the Túatha Dé in Ireland. His name (was) Dagán. Great, then, was his power, even though it belonged to the Mac Míled after the conquest of the country, for the Túatha Dé destroyed the corn and the milk round about the Mac Míled until they made the friendship of the Dagda. Afterwards, he saved their corn and milk.

    Now when he was king at first, his might was vast, and it was he who apportioned out the fairy mounds to the men of the Túatha Dé, namely Lug Mac Ethnend in Síd Rodrubán, (and) Ogma in Síd Aircelltraí, but for the Dagda himself Síd Leithet Lachtmaige, Oí Asíd, Cnocc Báine, (and) Brú Ruair. As, however, they say, he had Síd In Broga from the beginning.

    Then Mac Oac came to the Dagda in order to petition for land after it had been distributed to each one. He was, moreover, a fosterling to Midir of Brí Léith and to Nindid, the seer.

    "I have none for thee," said the Dagda. "I have completed the division."

    "Therefore let be granted to me," said the Mac Ooc, "even a day and a night in thy own dwelling."

    That then was given to him.

    "Go now to thy following." said the Dagda, "since thou hast consumed thy (allotted) time."

    "It is clear," said he, "that night and day are (the length of) the whole world, and it is that which has been given to me."

    Thereupon the Dagda went out, and the Mac Ooc remained in his Síd.

    Wonderful, moreover, (is) that land. Three trees with fruit are there always, and a pig eternally alive, and a roasted swine, and a vessel with marvellous liquor, and never do they all decrease.

    De Gabāil in t-Sīda in-so Sīs

    Boí rí amra for Tūathaib Dea i n-Hēre. Dagān a ainm. Ba mór, di·diu, a chumachta, ced la Maccu Mīled iar n-gabāil in tíre, ar collset Tūatha Dea ith 7 blicht im Maccu Mīled con·digensat) chairddes in Dagdai. Do·essart saide, īarum, ith 7 blicht dóib.

    Ba mór, di·diu, a chumachtasom in tan ba rí i tossucch 7 ba hé fodail inna side do feraib Dea .i. Lug Mac Ethnend i Ssíd Rodrubán; Ogma i Ssíd Airceltrai. Don Dagdu fessin, immurgu, Síth Leithet Lachtmaige, Oí Asíd, Cnocc Báine, Brú Ruair. Síd in Broga, da·no, ba laiss i tossuch, amal as·berat.

    Do·lluid, di·diu, in Mac Oac cosin Dagda do chungid feraind o fo·rodail do chách. Ba dalta saide, di·diu, do Midir Breg Léith 7 do Nindid fáith.

    "Ní-mthá duit," ol in Dagda, "Tarnaic fodail lemm."

    "Etar dam, di·diu," ol in Mac Ooc, "cid laa co n-aidchi it trib féin." Do·breth do-som ōn, īarum.

    "Collá dot dāim, trā," ol in Dagda, "ūaire do·romailt do ré."

    "Is menand," olse, "is laa 7 adaig in bith uile, 7 iss ed ōn do·ratad dam-sa." Luid, do·no, Dagān ass, īarum, 7 anaid in Mac Óoc ina Síd.

    Amra, da·no, a tír hī-sin. A·taat tri chrand co torud and do grés, 7 mucc bithbēo for chossaib, 7 mucc fonaithe, 7 lestar co llind sainemail, 7 ni·erchran and sin uile do grés."

    From: Vernam Hull, 'De Gabāil in t-Sīda,' in Zeitschrift für Celtische Philologie Volume 19, 1933, pp53-58. See also: Paddy Brown's translation.