Seán Ó Coileáin – The Silver Tongue of Munster
Posted by kevin on 2-1-2010 10:08 am
Seán Ó Coileáin (1754 - 1817) of Corca Laoidhe was a poet in the old Gaelic tradition, when poets commanded respect and were given the hospitality of the king's castle. Unhappily for Sean, the kings had all been deposed and the people who would have been his patrons were as poor as himself. He drank, but rather than making him happy, his drinking drove away his first wife and so enraged his second that she set fire to the house. Sean was a reluctant school teacher, but his poetry must have been appreciated, for he was known as the "SilverTongue of Munster". There is some mystery surrounding a strangely melancholy poem of his which has been compared to Gray's Elegy. Whether Ó Coileáin or an earlier poet wrote it continues to puzzle the folklorists. His finally resting place lies in Kilmeen Cemetery (pictured below).
Collins is of course a common English surname: of 29 Collins biographies in the Dictionary of National Biography 27 are of Englishmen. Nevertheless in Ireland Collins may be regarded as a genuinely indigenous Irish name: in fact it is one of our most numerous surnames, being number 30 in the relevant statistical list with an estimated Collins population of 14,000 persons. The great majority of these come from counties Cork and Limerick. This is as might be expected because the sept of O'Coileain (possibly derived from the word coilean, a whelp or young dog) originated in North Desmond which extended into the modern Co.Limerick, where they were lords of the baronies of Connello, until in the thirteenth century they were driven southwards by the Geraldines and settled in West Cork near the country possessed by their kinsmen the O'Donovans. A museum to O'Coileain, who wrote much of his poetry in Rineen wood close to Skibbereen and who taught hedge school at Ceim Hill, is worth a visit. Location: Rineen islocated about 6.5 km east of Skibbereen on the R596 to Glandore via Castletownsend.
The scholarly Fr. Matthew Horgan (1779-1849) wrote the Maynooth Irish Manuscript 24 C 13, which contains the following interesting note: "I put the 7 verses on this subject into his hands on June the 10th, when he returned the following beautiful Poem to me on the 16 of June 1819." The 'he' in question was local teacher Seán Ó Coileáin and the 'subject' was the destruction of Timoleague Abbey. Another Maynooth manuscript from the same period (M 48), contains a translation of Ó Coileáin's famous poem, preceded by this note:
"The Melancholy Man's Meditations on seeing the Abbey of Timoleague in 1813" written in Irish Ó Coileáin, “a genius of the first class who kept a school in that town”and translated by Mr John Ceaser in Cork, for, and at the request of Mr John Kirby."
The ruins of Timoleague Abbey stand at the end of the CourtmacsherryBay, in West Cork not far from Kinsale. It was founded by the Franciscan orderin 1240 A.D. The plain style reflects the simple way of life and strict observance of the Franciscan Order. The abbey was later extended by Donal Glas McCarthy in 1312, and by Irish and Norman patrons in the 16th century. The monks were dispersed by Reformation, but returned in 1604. The abbey was built on the site of a monastic settlement founded by Saint Molaga in the 6th century. The village’s name comes from the Irish for House of Molaga, Tigh Mologa.. In 1612 the abbey was sacked by English soldiers who also smashed all of the stained glass windows, but much of the significant architecture remains.The friars remained in the abbey until 1629. In 1642 the Abbey was burned by Lord Forbes. Today it is a graveyard for local people.
"The Melancholy Man's Meditations on seeing the Abbey of Timoleague in 1813"
Machnaimhan Duine Dhiolasaí
One night I sat alone in pensive mood,
Near to the foaming ocean's briny flood,
Where undulating waves did curling glide,
As doth this doubtful life's uncertain tide.
Bright Luna with her gaudy glittering train,
In silver robes had decked the pallid plain,
A solemn silence awed the gloomy scene,
All was a calm, a mild, and bright deep serene.
With careless steps, alone, I walked abroad,
The dreary mantled fields, I heedless trod,
When, lo! A Church yard door to me appeared,
A lofty monastery high o'er it reared.
I stood within this old abandoned door,
Once the known refuge of the hungry poor,
Where alms were given to the lame and blind,
The weak and weary did refreshment find.
Against its side a mouldering form lay
Now warped by age, but on a former day,
The Poets couch, the Clergy's lone retreat,
The weary traveller's refreshing seat.
I sat me down in melancholy mind,
And on my hand, my troubled head reclined,
In silent grief my thoughts increased my woe,
And from my eyes the tears began to flow.
I said in the anguish of my troubled breast,
Whilst the round tears each moment had increased,
There was a time when peace and plenty blessed,
This house, when by its Family possessed.
'Twas there the bells in lofty peals had rung,
'Twas there the clergy divine anthems sung,
That holy flock which once assembled there,
To worship God with fasting and with prayer.
These empty ruins now in shattered state,
Whose lofty towers are of oldest date,
Long hast thou stood the piercing cold and rain,
And bid Aeolus blow his blasts in vain.
Many a sea-born shower and bitter blast,
And ruder storm from yonder teaming coast,
Thou hast withstood, since first erected here,
A house of God for worship and for prayer.
Thou Holy Structure coated now in green,
The glowing beauty of this Isle hast been,
My troubled heart in doleful sorrow faints,
For thy destruction and thy banished Saints.
Thy lonesome walls are now almost forgot,
Exposed to air to moulder and to rot,
Where music once in solemn notes did roll,
Now the dull mansion of the screaming owl.
An Ivy wreath thy summit binds secure,
The pungent nettles on thy humid floor,
The fox shrill barking in thy ancient Hall,
And weasels purring in thy hallowed wall.
Herethe early lark his wonted Matin sung,
And clergy prayed with never ceasing tongue,
No voice is heard to model Nature's laws,
But the loud chatter of the nestling daws.
Thy empty larders can no meat disclose,
Thy bedless chambers offer no repose,
Thy holy chancel now o'ergrown with grass,
Where clergy gave the sacred rites of mass.
Adieu thy customs greeted with applause,
Thy ancient family, thy wholesome laws,
Alas! Beneath thy naked mouldering stones,
Nought can be seen but heaps of rotten bones.
Methinks I hear the shouts assail mine ear,
Methinks, alas! the hostile group is near,
That armed force, that unrelenting foe,
Which caused thy schism and thy overthrow.
I once to Fortune was a favourite child,
Till cruel fate my prospects had beguiled,
The world warred against my peaceful home,
And naught but sorrow fills my dreary dome.
My feeble limbs have lost their wonted strength,
My eyes their sight, my aged body spent,
My friends and children in this Churchyard laid,
To turn to dust of which mankind is made.
In deepest sorrow I have walked and mourned,
My broken heart with grief to jelly turned,
My sinking spirits faint within my breast,
Should death approach, he'll be a welcome guest.
Seán Ó Coileáin (1754 - 1817) of Corca Laoidhe was a poet in the old Gaelic tradition, when poets commanded respectand were given the hospitality of the king's castle. Unhappily for Sean, the kings had all been deposed and the people who would have been his patrons wereas poor as himself. He drank, but rather than making him happy, his drinking drove away his first wife and so enraged his second that she set fire to the house. Sean was a reluctant school teacher, but his poetry must have been appreciated, for he was known as the "Silver Tongue of Munster".There is some mystery surrounding a strangely melancholy poem of his which has been compared to Gray's Elegy. Whether Ó Coileáin or an earlier poet wrote it continues to puzzle the folklorists.
Collins coat of arms and familyhistory
... Seán Ó Coileáin (1754 - 1817) of Corca Laoidhe was a poet in the old Gaelic tradition,
when poets commanded respect and were given the hospitality of the ...
www.araltas.com/features/collins/ - 19k - Cached- Similar pages
Collins is of course a common English surname: of 29 Collins biographies in the Dictionary of National Biography 27 are of Englishmen. Nevertheless in Ireland Collins may be regarded as a genuinely indigenous Irish name: in fact it is one of our most numerous surnames, being number 30 in the relevant statistical list with an estimated Collins population of 14,000 persons. The great majority of these come fromcounties Cork and Limerick. This is as might be expected because the sept of Ó Coileáin (possibly derived from the word coilean, a whelpor young dog) originated in North Desmond which extended into the modern Co.Limerick, where they were lords of the baronies of Connello, until in thethirteenth century they were driven southwards by the Geraldines and settled in West Cork near the country possessed by their kinsmen the O'Donovans. The well known Gaelic poem, translated as "Lament over Timnoleague Abbey" has immortalized Sean O Coileain, or John Collins (1754-1817), one of this sept.
GoIreland.com- Genealogy surname search
... The well known Gaelic poem,translated as "Lament over Timnoleague Abbey" has
immortalized Seán Ó Coileáin, or John Collins (1754-1817), one of this sept. ...
www.goireland.com/Genealogy/ scripts/Family.asp?FamilyID=68 - 24k - Cached- Similar pages
A museum to Seán Ó Coileáin, a poet whowrote poetry in the wood and who taught hedge school at Ceim Hill, is alsoworth a visit.Location: Rineen is located about 6.5 km east of Skibbereen on the R596 to Glandore via Castletownsend.
Coillte Tourismand Recreation Rineen Wood, Co Cork
... A museum to Seán Ó Coileáin, a poetwho wrote poetry in the wood and who
taught hedge school at C
THE STORY OF O'DONOVAN ROSSA
Posted by kevin on 2-1-2010 9:59 am
Written by Con O'Callaghan Wednesday,05 October 2005
Taken from Reenascreena web-site
O'DonovanRossa is perhaps Reenascreena's most famous son (although residents ofRosscarbery invariably lay claim to him as their own, his mother was from Reenascreena, and many locals claim he was born here). Here Con O'Callaghan relays the story of O'Donovan Rossa....(CJ)
O'Donovan Rossa
“The story of O’Donovan Rossa, is in a sense the story of Ireland. It is the story of anintrepid patriot who hearkening in his youth to the mystic voices of the greatfathers of Irish Nationalism, trained and worked and wrote that the dream of “Tone” and “Emmet” might be realised in his lifetime. Perhaps someday when Ireland regains the complete and untrammelled measure of freedom for which this unflinchingFenian fought and suffered and national consciousness displaced the apparently fashionable shoneenism of modern society, people will place Rossa on his rightful pedestal and examine his sturdy teachings”
Rossa was the son of Denis O’Donovan Rossa of Carrigangrenane and Nellie O’Driscoll of Reenascreena. He was baptised in Rosscarbery on the 10th September 1831. At the age of three he went to his grandfathers house at Reenascreena, and he stayed there until he was seven, then he returned to Rosscarbery. The years spent in Reenascreena gave him a good picture of Irish life at that time. He learned the Irish language, as that was the language of the house and the language of the farm.
At the age of seven he returned to Ross to prepare for Communion and Confirmation. Rossa got a great knowledge of Irish history from his parents. He had learned that his father’s family were originally from Rossmore, but were evicted from there and came to Carrigangrenane Reenascreena only to be evictedfrom there again and moved to Rosscarbery. He knew that the eviction from Rossmore was for Religious reasons and was during the penal times. The invaders were taking the land from the native Irish. The scenes he had seen during the famine years strengthened Rossa’s hatred of English rule in Ireland.
Coming on the harvest time of the year 1845 the crops looked splendid, but one fine morning in July there was a cry around that some blight had struck the potato stalks. The leaves had been blighted and from being green, parts of them were turned black and brown and when these parts were felt between the fingers, they’d crumble into ashes. The air was left with a sticky odour of decay as if the hands of death had stricken the potato field and that everything growing in it was rotting. “This is the recollection that remains in my mind of what I felt in our marsh field that morning”. Then one of our fields had a crop of wheat and when that wheat was reaped and stacked the landlord put keepers on it. One of the keepers (Mickeleen O’Brien) went with my mother to the Lloyds mill and from the mill to the agent. When my mother came home she came without any money. The rent was £18 a year. The wheat was thirty shillings a bag, there were 12 bags and a few stone, that came in all to £18/5s and she gave all to the agent.
During those years in Ireland ’45 ’46 ’47, the potato crop failed but the other crops grew well, and as in the case of my people in ’45 thel andlords came in on the people everywhere and seized the grain crops for the rent---not caring much what became of those whose labour and sweat produced those crops. The people died of starvation by thousands.
We adapt the English expression and call those years “The Famine Years” but there was no famine in the land. There is no famine in any land that produced as much food as will support the people of that land--- if the food is left with them. But the English took the food away to England and let the people starve.”
A list of exports of food from Cork on a single day 14th Nov1848 as listed in “Ireland a History” by Robert Kee:
· 147 Bales of Bacon
· 5 Casks of Hams
· 120 Casks and 135 barrels of Pork
· 149 Casks of Miscellaneous provisions
· 1996 Sacks and 950 Barrels of Oats
· 300 Bags of Flour
· 300 Head of Cattle
· 239 Sheep
· 9398 Firkins of Butter
· 542 Boxes of Eggs.
To further show that there was plenty food in the Country, Fr W Holland in his book “A History of West Cork” Quotes from Cork Arch, Record no 173, page 57. A Government Estimate reported some 16 million quarters of wheat for 1847. A Quarter-480 Lbs would be sufficient to support a single person for an entire year. In addition, there were sufficient green crops at a stone per head per day to support 4 million human beings.
Rossa’s father died in March 1847. He went to Smorane in 1848. The home in Ross got broken up and the family went to America.Rossa lived with his aunt, Mrs. Stephen Barry. Her daughter was married to Mortimer Downing who had a hardware shop in Skibbereen and Rossa worked there.The day that Rossa’s mother, sister and brother were leaving for America, he came to see them off. He mentions the long straight road from Tullig to Mauliregan and that he stayed looking up the hill after the horse and cart until they were gone from his view.
Rossa married Nanno Eagar in Skibbereen on the 6th June 1853. Shortly after getting married he set up his own business in Skibbereen, selling hardware and seeds and doing well. In 1856 the Phoenix National and Literary Society was founded, with the principal aim of rousing the spirit of the people, so low after the famine and the failure of the Young Ireland Rising. Through reading in the Phoenix Society, Rossa knew that in 1641, which was 40 years after the Battle of Kinsale, Catholics held just 59% of the land of Ireland. By 1688 this figure had dropped to 22%: in 1695 the figure was 14% and in 1714 Catholics owned just 7% of the land of Ireland.
From these figures Rossa could clearly see that it was easy to pass “The Act of Union” in 1800, and it was only property owners were allowed vote and I think it may be that undemocratic act which still ties the six counties to England.
Some members of the Phoenix Society were:
Daniel McCartie , Dan Crowley, Patrick Carey Patrick J. Downing, Morty Moynahan.
James Stephen scame in 1858 and the Phoenix Society became the Fenian Society. The society did not escape the attention of the police. With the help of an informer thel eaders were arrested in December 1858. This man Daniel O’Sullivan (Goula) from Kerry got £50 for his false information. Rossa was remanded in Cork jail for 8 months. His business suffered as a result and he got into financial difficulties. The rich and landlord class ceased dealing with him, and the poor were afraid to be seen trading. His wife Nanno Eagar died in January 1859 and left four sons.
In twelve months Rossa fell in love again, this time with Ellen Buckley of Gortbrack and married in 1861. They had one son Florence Stephen O’Donovan Rossa, who lived until he was 21 and is the only one of his children buried in Ireland. Shortly after the birth, Ellen contracted fever and died. She is buried in Castlehaven old cemetery. Rossa was in America in 1863, when his wife Ellen died.
Rossa had a magic touch as far as girls were concerned; in April 1864 he met Mary Jane Irwin, a daughter of Maxwell Irwin of Clonakiltya nd married her on the 22nd October 1864. He often spoke of her as his little poetess.
James Stephens invited Rossa to Dublin to act as manger of “The Irish People” newspaper. They were not long in business when they experienced opposition from the clergy in almost every county in the country. Rossa travelled the whole country promoting the paper. He said, “Our agents were bullied and threatened with hell and damnation. In Kilkenny the penance in confession was that theys hould not read The Irish People.”
On 15th Sep
J.J. Calnan - A Poet of the Past
Posted by kevin on 2-1-2010 9:51 am
By Paddy Keohane
taken from The Kilmeen Journal 1978/79 editor Dan O’Leary
While on a visit recently to Kilmeen Cemetery, a hand-carved inscription on a neatly constructed headstone caught my attention. The words read,
“How of the sung of Ballygurteen,
And of the hurlers of Kilmeen.
J.J. Calnan, Poet and Writer
Died on December 17th 1929”.
My curiousity aroused, I later carried out some investigations and fortunately located copies of several poems, ballads and other writings by the late J.J. Calnan. It was obvious from these that he had a fondness for local themes as his epitaph states, so I was surprised to learn that he also contributed regularly to the ‘Cork Weekly Examiner’, and won several prizes for his humorous writing as well as winning wide acclaim. His words capture the gaiety and freshness of rural life which he understood so well.
The Capparees (1928) edited version
About a band of gallant boys,
The Capparees, by name
From that townland you understand
They do derive the same
On every Sunday evening
After coming home from Mass,
Those boys will meet for converse sweet
Down by O’Connolly’s Cross
They’re up for every sort of game
But in them you’ll always find
A love for one another
And a friendship true and kind
For I’m often in their ranks myself
And wherever I may be
I’ll love that spot in old Kippagh
That rears a Capparee.
While parts of the above ballad has been omitted here, I feel that the lines quoted still reveal the personality of the man who wrote them. They tell also, a little about the times and the people, the friendship and the sporting outlook of the young people of1928. In another way, they illustrate the limited world of the people of those days who were without mechanised transport and organised recreation. Indeed Calnan loved sports and managed to immortalise many of the sporting events and personalities of his era. Older readers will remember his famous ballad “Bealad Races”, with its neat turn of phrase and distinctive rhythm.
Bealad Races
On December the eight, in twenty eight
Amid nice fair scenes and places
By that well-known inn and romantic glen
Were held the Bealad Races
From Shepperton to Shannon Vale
Along that southern valley
Every horse and pony that could swish a tail
To that valley they did rally
Twould remind you of old, when huntsmen bold
Who dared both bog and highland
In the Carbery’s meet from his wild retreat
To chase the wily Reynard
There was Carbery Lass and Little Lad
Old Stock and Pop the Question
Gearagh Lass, Little Annie and Queen of theWest
On the card – a grand selection
The cycle race brought nigh a pace
Five stalwarts brave and hearty
By the Arigideen, that silver stream
‘Twas won by one McCarthy
No cudgel bestirred, no shouts were heard
The Gardai will have no cases
Then homeward bound, on the roads were found
Well pleased with Bealad Races.
Meanwhile, the Kilmeen hurlers got their spot on the Examiner on June 15th 1929 after the local bard witnessed a clash between Kilmeen and Innishannon in a game played at Coolnaconortha.
The Kilmeen hurlers are victorious once more
And their fame has spread wider than everbefore
Since a ‘friendly’ they fought in well knownLoughawn Leah
‘Gainst Innishannon Green Rovers on the thirteenth of May
Every seanavan, seanduine and good vanitee
From a countryside round, came those hurlers to see
Every fair-haired and dark-haired, and bobbed–haired colleen
From charming Rossmore on to Ballygurteen.
Sever was the tussle, exciting the play
Doctor Nudge with the Rovers made a gallant display
While Jim Hurley’s long pucks, were a sight tobe seen
Upholding the honours with the boys of Kilmeen
No trophy they longed for, each team played the game
The Kilmeen boys, their stamina, well did maintain
When the long whistle sounded, the score to be seen
Was three for the Rovers and five for Kilmeen
Perhaps Calnan’s most famous balled was that entitled ‘Ballygurteen Races’ which first appeared in print on June 16th 1928. And so as he lies close to the ‘warblers in the groves of Kilmeen, the words of J.J. Calnan live on to inform, amuse and entertain us.
Ballygurteen Races (1928)
On the twentieth September, a glorious fine day
All the roads in the county, they led but oneway
Such a concourse of people, was ne’er before seen
To witness the Races at Ballygurteen.
There were young men and old men and matrons and maids
The latest in fashions and colours and shades
From over Cork County, men of sport could be seen
Strolling round on the racecourse in Ballygurteen
We had horses from Bandon around to Grancore,
From Drinagh, Dromidihy on to Glandore,
With Miss Hawkins of fame from the Arigideen
Whose pony won laurels in Ballygurteen
The saloons were inviting, the catering grand
Down the gravel hole hill, we had nature’sgrand-stand
On that site, where of old in the days that hadbeen
Was that noted St. John’s Fair of Ballygurteen
We had sideshows and swing-boats and gunmen galore
Cakes and large orange stands by the score
Musicians, roulette men and trickeys so keen
To lighten your pockets at Ballygurteen
The cheers for the victors were heard in Rossmore
Such keen competition was ne’er seen before
The tally-ho of the drag-hunt on the hill side so green
Arousing the warblers in the groves of Kilmeen.