Come children dear and sit by me,
Come young and old, come one and all.
I’ll take my harp upon my knee,
And sing of Finn, and Tara’s hall.
When harvest’s gold was gathered in,
And Tara’s mount was hung with lights,
Bold Goll McMorna and his kin
Would welcome the November nights
With songs, and mead, and revelry.
Such tales… such laughter on the air…
The flower of Celtic chivalry,
The Irish maidens tall and fair,
The Embassies from Alba’s land,
And Ellan Vannin’s thanes and eorls
All were assembled; and at hand
See – Goll McMorna’s dancing girls!
Now, picture this: the midnight bell
Had struck, half-heard amongst the throng,
The long, bright summer’s final knell,
When Goll McMorna called, “A song!
A song to gladden every soul –
I’ll pledge a quart of usquebaugh
To him who, here on Tara’s knoll…”
A gentle knock came at the door
And Goll’s oration died away
For, standing at the threshold there
Appeared a man as fair as day,
Tall as a birch, and dark of hair.
“My name is Allan of the Harp,”
Declared the man of handsome face,
“From Donegal. By glen and scarp,
Long have I sought McMorna’s race.
In honour’s name a boon I crave –
My song to sing, my harp to play,
A tribute to such warriors brave,
Who celebrate the harvest day!”
McMorna cried, “I grant that boon!”
And Allan struck a note so sweet…
And there, beneath the harvest moon,
Each reveller stilled in his seat.
For Allan was an Elvish King
With magic power – an evil wight
Who hated, above anything
To see a mortal lord in might.
So he, with clear, enchanted notes
Called up a mist, like billows deep
Made up of sweetly-perfumed motes,
To lull the revellers to sleep,
As Allan laughed in wicked mirth –
Forgetfulness akin to death
From which there is no second birth –
And burned the hall with fiery breath!
For three and twenty years the hall
Of Tara’s King was razed and burned
On Harvest Eve. But none recall
Who from that eldritch sleep returned
The harping of the evil elf –
In mystery was Tara cloaked –
Until young Finn McCool himself
The right of rest and board invoked
One summer’s end, and joined their feast.
A modest boy of humble mien,
He sat the lowest, ate the least,
Observed the merrymaking scene.
At midnight sharp came Allan in
And shrouded all with slumber foul
Except the youthful paladin,
Who hid a spear beneath his cowl
And pressed the blade against his cheek.
Then Allan stalked around the room
And wrathfully began to speak.
“This is brave Goll McMorna’s doom,
That once a year shall Tara fall
And fire her rising towers destroy.
And thus I curse you, one and all!”
At which, up sprang the noble boy…
Young Finn McCool held fast his spear,
His blood shone crimson on its blade,
And Allan stood amazed, in fear -
No spell, no word, no move he made.
Too late he tried to draw his knife
As Finn charged with a battle cry.
The spear-blade robbed him of his life,
And Finn stooped down to watch him die.
McMorna’s kin then all awoke…
Astonished eyes took in the sight,
And Goll himself in wonder spoke,
“Is Tara saved, this Harvest Night?”
Brave Finn’s renown spread far and wide –
The bards declaimed, the clerks set down
His mighty deed of Samhain-tide,
And Goll gave up his royal crown!
McCool of Tara’s tales live still –
By firesides the shanachies
Recite them now. Each glen and hill
Resounds with songs and tales like these.
But friends, beware the traveller
With handsome face, with dagger sharp,
Who asks to please the reveller
With songs and music on the harp!
Come children dear and sit by me,
Come young and old, come one and all.
I’ll take my harp upon my knee,
And sing of Finn, and Tara’s hall.
Author notes
Just having a wee bit of fun with the story of Fionn mac Cumhaill, fire-breathing Aillen, and Goll mac Morna.
'in ainm De'
In a list
A contest entry
- Tell me a Story by TabbyJoy.
750 points, ended April 2, 2008, 44 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Tales of fantasy by Dark Otter.
600 points, ended April 2, 2008, 19 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Fairy-Tales, Spirit-Tales And Tales-Of-Wisdom ... In Verse - For Really Long Poems (100 lines +) by maa.
543 points, ended April 10, 2008, 10 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Irish Poems by JustWhoIAm.
600 points, ended April 17, 2008, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Story-Telling Poems by cover fire hero.
600 points, ended May 8, 2008, 11 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Finalist
Great story, I'm not familiar with the original but I thought this was well-written. -
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It's an old Irish tale. I embellished it a little, and made a medieval ballad out of it. Thanks for the silver.
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Stupendous Imagery
What a great poem: "just having a wee bit o'fun" with a story? seems that you are a total poet through 'n through; this type and style is what I used to enjoy when I was studying the classics: a true master-piece, if I may say so; the entire work is Royal Poetry to me... DW
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Well thank you very much. I think the "wee bit of fun" I was having was slightly de-celticising it, and making it more of a Victorian, neo-medieval tale. It flowed quite well as I wrote it, with only a couple of stumbles.
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wow … this just blew me away …
not only is this tale put in verse with the talent of a master, but the way it is told, is just completely enchanting and breathtaking … for a moment, I was in the midst of the colourful scene, a part of it …
how precious it is to tell such ancient legends and tales with a new voice …
a true blessing for all children young and old who listen to them …
thank you so much !
maa
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It was a joy to write.
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An epic Irish rhyme
When my eyes clear, I'll give it another read. Personally, I like it. How can't I with an Irish/Scottish heritage. I like the story, language and the character names. Another welcome addition to a growing list of good works.
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great take on this ancient story...love Irish lore.
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Thanks very much - it was satisfying to write.
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What a beautifully worded story!Flawless rhyming and beautiful descriptions...funny how I've missed a talent like yours on the site....hard to come by great rhymers these days
Good luck in the contest, seems well worthy of gold to me
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Y'know, I actually thought I was pushing my luck a little here, thought I was sailing too close to doggerel. I think that's why my very next piece was written in the style of McGonnigal. Thanks for your praise.
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Lovely as always. This could easily be one of the tales told in a poem of mine about the telling of tales.
Very well done, and with a Celtic flair! -
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Thank you... I'll go looking for that.
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Admiring this enchanting tale and thanking you for sharing your fine talent with us! A grand party revealed with a beautiful poet's skillful touch.
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Dear Marilynn, thank you so much.
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A wonderful celebration here with lines all filled with adventure from the land of the Irish.
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Thank you, Violet.
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I came and gathered round
Sat by you, heard every sound,
The story you would tell
Bewitched me with it's magic spell.
A tale I'd heard before
But here concise and so much more,
For sharing, I thank you
From just a fan, named Sue
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Many thanks, Sue
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Tá dán seo go h-iontach, a Mháirí! A greatly entertaining piece, with good rhyming and flow throughout--maith thú!
Bill
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Thank you kindly Bill. I would reply in kind, but my Irish is non-existent (and my knowledge of the sister tongue - Scottish Gaelic - only sketchy). I had fun writing this.
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OMG! I love this! You have composed a masterpiece that is not just a good story and poem. This is brilliant in vocabulary and context. You have identified the evil in my life. I am possessed with Allan of the Harp.
Love,
Amera♥
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Well I had a lot of fun, and laughed myself silly as I groped for rhymes here and there... I thought I would re-tell the legend as it might have been told in medieval times, maybe one step removed from the celtic original, and with all words and names anglicised. I think it works.
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And he's got usequebaugh, which explains the firebreath.
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By the looks of your current avvie, you're more Goll McMorna. Wake up!
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Anything with the name Allan and usquebaugh, the original whiskey, is more than OK with me. For Heaven's sake? I give it three bunnies.
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Tapadh leat for the bunnies... and lest you get ahead of yourself, Aillen (Allan) the fire-breathing elf is in the orignal legend
Very glad you enjoyed it.
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Don't kid yourself... Look at the spelling... you don't change Aillen to Allan unless you subconsciously love me. That 'e' to 'a' proves it. That's all there is to it.
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ew!
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Noggin the Nog is sitting round the fire...
I am six
I can close my eyes
And magic happens
Finn is there
The Whole story is there
In me
It is me
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
OK, good poem I guess...
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Listen... and I will tell you the tales as they were told in days of old, by the men of the Northlands, as they sat round their great log fires...
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