Giolla-Bhrighde was a file and brother to the poet Eochaidh Ó h-Eoghusa. He left Ireland and his profession to become a Franciscan monk (at this time, the English had long since dissolved the Irish and British monasteries). He taught in European universities and wrote religious poetry until his death.
| Middle Irish | My English translation |
|---|---|
| O áite doimhne bhéic mé | From the deep place, I shout |
| chugad, a Rí-Fhlaith neimhe, | to you, Royal King of heaven; |
| éist mo ghuth, a Rí na rann, | listen to my voice, oh King of verse, |
| anois ó táim a n-achrann. | now from [this] tangle. |
| -- | -- |
| Bíod Do chluasa go h-aireach | If it were, Lord, [that you] were heedful [of sins], |
| ag éisteacht le m'aghallmha; | my speech with you [would turn] to silence; |
| tuirse ná déan lem' ghuidhe, | [for] sorrow [I could] not make my prayer with you, |
| a Thriath na sé sochaidhe. | Ruler of the multitude. |
| -- | -- |
| Má chuirir gach peachadh a suim | A plain -- [you] sow everything, sprouting the sum, |
| a Dhia, nó a [b]módh chomhthruim, | God, in the way of compassion. |
| cia lé'r féidir seasamh leat | Who can stand with you, |
| a Rí nimhe na mór-fheart? | heavenly King of great miracles? |
| -- | -- |
| óir ad' fhochair tá go buan | Because he is always close, |
| trócaire agus síoth an-mhuar; | mercy and peace [are] the wall(?). |
| d'iomchras go foighideach leat | fitting(?) to be learning(?) from you, |
| tríd dhlighthibh, a Rí ró-cheart. | through [your] merit, oh great crafter King. |
| -- | -- |
| D'iomchair, le fíor-ghlór Do bhéil, | Fittingly(?), with true voice from God's mouth |
| m'anam-sa na n-olc n-aithbhéil; | my own soul speaks again of evil. (vomits?) |
| Do chuir m'anam uile a dhóigh | God sows all my soul to hope |
| ad mhaith, a Thriath 's a Thrionóid. | in good, oh Lord and Trinity. |
| -- | -- |
| Ó mhaidin mhoch go neol-neoin | From early morning that ____ |
| [a] a Rí na glóire briocht-bhuain, | the King of glory's lasting-spell, |
| 'Chuir Isráel a ndóig go léir, | the Wall(?) of Israel's whole hope, |
| 's tú thárrthaigh iad ó ain-mhéin. | you rescue them from bad minds. |
| -- | -- |
| Óir maille leis an Rí Mhór | Because with the Great King |
| atá an trócaire an-mhór, | is very great mercy, |
| 's as líonmhar n-a fhochair 'tá | and from near him plentiful is |
| fuasgladh daoine tré ró-ghrádh. | the salvation of the people through great love. |
| -- | -- |
| Saorfaidh Sé Israel go léir | The entire Freedom of Israel |
| Ó uile olc is ain-mhéin, | from all evil and bad minds, |
| mar sin go saora inn uile | until all are free inside, |
| Príomh-Thobar na trócaire. | Prime Well of mercy. |
| -- | -- |
Back to the medieval Irish poem index
| Home Page | ||||
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Medieval Irish Poetry | Maureen's Filk | Jewel Riders Home Page | ||