Irish History
And
The Fighting Irish
And
The Fighting Irish
Dublin
Castle the seat of English power in Ireland, stands on the site of the fortress of Haskulf
the Dane. Before its first stone root struck into the ground, while the Norman adventurers hed Dublin, Haskulf came sailing back with fifty ships manned by men in ringed hauberks, with red painted shields, of iron hearts, of iron hands, says the chronicler to win back his home. He was defeated, his men put to the sword, and he, for a brave defiant word, had his old bald head shorn from his shoulders.
by the time the story of Ireland reached the 16th century the castle was a large quadrangular building with towers, high walls and strong defences. It was fortress, a Parliament House, a Council Chamber, a Prison, it was the very heart of English rule in Ireland. That heart had been beating there four hundred years and, if an old prophecy is true it had yet to beat three hundred more. Then it would cease. In 1567 a gift was brought to a group og gentlemen
in the Castle's Council Chamber. The bearer was handsomely rewarded from the public Treasury, and the gift put in its place. Tarred, stuck on a pole thrust horizontally from the north-west gateway, it was left there for all Dublin to see. The Lord Deputy hastened to write to Elizabeth of England to tell her the good news. For that gift had brought her statesmen a step further in the conquest of Ireland. It was the head of Shane O' Neill, captain and Chief of North-west Ulster. Shane was a bad man in private life, and typically to the English he was barabric, but he was a born soldier, a brillian strategist, a sagacious ruler, and a believer in his rights. When Conn the Lame, his father, accepted an English title, and became Baron of Dungannon, Shane went into rebellion. On his father's death, he slew his half brother, the next baron, and was inaugurated the O' Neill. Shane the Proud Ulster called him. He stood across England's advance into the province.
Wherever he set up his tent, the great King-Candle, before it, thicker than a man's body, shining there in the night,
his battle-axe guard at the door, the trained soldiers of his territory, the hired Scottish gall-oglach around, victory generally fell to his side. Elizabeth and her Lord Deputies tried to cajole him, to deceive him, to defeat him, to capture and to murder him. Then when his soldiers had pierced to the Pale, they recognised him as the O'Neill.
Once Sussex, the Lord Deputy, sent a force into his territory. The English General siezed Armagh, left men there, gathered spoil, and then set homeward. O' Neill heard, followed, slew the spoilers and recaptured the booty. The Lord Deputy wished to make terms. O' Neill answered that he would make no terms till the English soldiers were withdrawn from Armagh. The Deputy temporised, applied to England for soldiers, got them, and marched a great army into Northeast Ulster. But he struck at the air; O' Neill withdrew his men into the forests and mountains, and sent an envoy to France to ask for 6,000 men.
Elizabeth bade her Deputy to win O' Neill over with promises and offers of friendship. He was won, or appeared to be. She invited him to London. So he went, taking his retinue with him, being not only Chief of Tyrone, but a prince with far descended rights.
in the Castle's Council Chamber. The bearer was handsomely rewarded from the public Treasury, and the gift put in its place. Tarred, stuck on a pole thrust horizontally from the north-west gateway, it was left there for all Dublin to see. The Lord Deputy hastened to write to Elizabeth of England to tell her the good news. For that gift had brought her statesmen a step further in the conquest of Ireland. It was the head of Shane O' Neill, captain and Chief of North-west Ulster. Shane was a bad man in private life, and typically to the English he was barabric, but he was a born soldier, a brillian strategist, a sagacious ruler, and a believer in his rights. When Conn the Lame, his father, accepted an English title, and became Baron of Dungannon, Shane went into rebellion. On his father's death, he slew his half brother, the next baron, and was inaugurated the O' Neill. Shane the Proud Ulster called him. He stood across England's advance into the province.
Wherever he set up his tent, the great King-Candle, before it, thicker than a man's body, shining there in the night,
his battle-axe guard at the door, the trained soldiers of his territory, the hired Scottish gall-oglach around, victory generally fell to his side. Elizabeth and her Lord Deputies tried to cajole him, to deceive him, to defeat him, to capture and to murder him. Then when his soldiers had pierced to the Pale, they recognised him as the O'Neill.
Once Sussex, the Lord Deputy, sent a force into his territory. The English General siezed Armagh, left men there, gathered spoil, and then set homeward. O' Neill heard, followed, slew the spoilers and recaptured the booty. The Lord Deputy wished to make terms. O' Neill answered that he would make no terms till the English soldiers were withdrawn from Armagh. The Deputy temporised, applied to England for soldiers, got them, and marched a great army into Northeast Ulster. But he struck at the air; O' Neill withdrew his men into the forests and mountains, and sent an envoy to France to ask for 6,000 men.
Elizabeth bade her Deputy to win O' Neill over with promises and offers of friendship. He was won, or appeared to be. She invited him to London. So he went, taking his retinue with him, being not only Chief of Tyrone, but a prince with far descended rights.
Shane o'neill
( Shane the Proud )
Oh thy wild and windy upland Tornamona,
High above the tossing Moyle,
Lies in slumber, deep and dreamless now, a warrior
Weary-worn with battle-toil.
Oh his mighty breast the little canna blossoms,
And the scented bog-bines trail;
While the winds from Lurigaiden whisper hush-songs
Round the bed of Shane O'Neill.
Time was once, O haughty Warrior, when you slept not
To the crooning of the wind;
There was once a Shane whom daises could not smother,
And whom bog-weeds could not bind-
Once a Shane with death-shafts from his fierce eye flashing,
With dismay in fist of mail-
Shane, whose throbbing pulses sang with singing lightning-
Shane, our Shane, proud Shane O' Neill !
Him the hungry Scot knew, and the thieving Saxon,
Traitorous Eireannach as well;
For their mailed throats often gurgles in his grasping,
As he hurled their souls to hell
Sassenach, now, and flouting Scot, and Irish traitor,
Breathe his name and turn not pale.
Set their heel upon the warrior's breast, nor tremble -
God ! the breast of Shane O' Neill !
Will you never, O our Chieftain, snap the sleep-cords ?
Never rise in thunderous wrath -
Through the knaves and slaves that bring a blight on Uladh,
Sweeping for a dread red swath?
O'er the surges shout, O you on Tornamona,
Hark, the soul-shout of the Gael !
Rise O Chief, and lead us from our bitter bondage -
Rise, in God's name, Shane O' Neill.
Seumas MacManus
High above the tossing Moyle,
Lies in slumber, deep and dreamless now, a warrior
Weary-worn with battle-toil.
Oh his mighty breast the little canna blossoms,
And the scented bog-bines trail;
While the winds from Lurigaiden whisper hush-songs
Round the bed of Shane O'Neill.
Time was once, O haughty Warrior, when you slept not
To the crooning of the wind;
There was once a Shane whom daises could not smother,
And whom bog-weeds could not bind-
Once a Shane with death-shafts from his fierce eye flashing,
With dismay in fist of mail-
Shane, whose throbbing pulses sang with singing lightning-
Shane, our Shane, proud Shane O' Neill !
Him the hungry Scot knew, and the thieving Saxon,
Traitorous Eireannach as well;
For their mailed throats often gurgles in his grasping,
As he hurled their souls to hell
Sassenach, now, and flouting Scot, and Irish traitor,
Breathe his name and turn not pale.
Set their heel upon the warrior's breast, nor tremble -
God ! the breast of Shane O' Neill !
Will you never, O our Chieftain, snap the sleep-cords ?
Never rise in thunderous wrath -
Through the knaves and slaves that bring a blight on Uladh,
Sweeping for a dread red swath?
O'er the surges shout, O you on Tornamona,
Hark, the soul-shout of the Gael !
Rise O Chief, and lead us from our bitter bondage -
Rise, in God's name, Shane O' Neill.
Seumas MacManus
Thus
on the site of feasting was now a tradition of blood. The new justiciary carried up the walls; and
London stared. He brought a company of Gall-oglach. They were picked and selected men " of great and mighty bodies, men choosing rather to die than to yield " They wore shirts of mail, iron caps, bright coloured trews to the knees, leggings of leather. Their arms were swords by their sides, battle-axes in their hands. The company being on an embassy of peace, in courtesy to a queen, marched with bare heads. An English writer saw them, wondered,
marvelled with London and the court at their uncivilised mode of wearing their hair. Long on their necks it hung; close-cut in front above the eyes. And such eyes as must have looked out from under the combed unparted glib, proud, wondering, thinking of the spoil, no doubt, that the big foreign city could give.
marvelled with London and the court at their uncivilised mode of wearing their hair. Long on their necks it hung; close-cut in front above the eyes. And such eyes as must have looked out from under the combed unparted glib, proud, wondering, thinking of the spoil, no doubt, that the big foreign city could give.
Elizabeth received their Chief in honour, bestowing her friendship and gifts upon him; for which friendship and gifts, and the recognition of his Chieftainship he paid her allegiance and promised to drive brave Sorely Boy McDonnell and his Scottish soldiers out of Antrim. So they parted, Lady paramount, and semi-independent prince.
But it was not her policy nor the policy of her statesmen to let such a man live. He was dangerous as an O' Neill who might try to recover full independence, a man who laso remembered his direct descent from the High Kings of Ireland. He went home, the Proud, with what thoughts in his mind who shall say ? But he had pased his word; remembered his honour; made war on Sorely Boy and his Scots, defeated them and captured McDonnell. For two years he lived in state, ruling justly. Every day he put aside the first dish from his table for the poor. " We serve
Christ first " he said. Sinner, soldier, Chieftain, he was a strong figure in the century.
These great dynastic houses maintained large retinues. Many since the Invasion, had lived and ruled as if no England existed. They sent embassies and heralds to one another, proclaimed war or peace; collected their tribute
The point of England's sword had entered the body, but the wound was scorned of forgotten. Each House had its hereditary officials; a marshal of forces; a master of horse; chief doorkeeper; chief butler; superintendent of banquets; an immediate guard; keeper of treasure and chessboard; keeper of arms and dresses; answerer of challenges from outside territories; avengers of insults; chief steward; keeper of hounds; inaugurator and deposer;
rearer of horses; carriers of wine from harbour to the court, builders and erectors of buildings; stewards off rent and tribute; hereditary historians and poets, men highly trained in the schools.
Shane's territory was now supposed to be safe from English interference or invasion. He and England's queen were friends. Sussex the Lord Deputy, wrote offering him his sister in marriage with a safe conduct to Dublin. His intention was to capture Shane. Later he sent him a present of wine. Elizabeth knew of the gift; knew what was in it.
But it was not her policy nor the policy of her statesmen to let such a man live. He was dangerous as an O' Neill who might try to recover full independence, a man who laso remembered his direct descent from the High Kings of Ireland. He went home, the Proud, with what thoughts in his mind who shall say ? But he had pased his word; remembered his honour; made war on Sorely Boy and his Scots, defeated them and captured McDonnell. For two years he lived in state, ruling justly. Every day he put aside the first dish from his table for the poor. " We serve
Christ first " he said. Sinner, soldier, Chieftain, he was a strong figure in the century.
These great dynastic houses maintained large retinues. Many since the Invasion, had lived and ruled as if no England existed. They sent embassies and heralds to one another, proclaimed war or peace; collected their tribute
The point of England's sword had entered the body, but the wound was scorned of forgotten. Each House had its hereditary officials; a marshal of forces; a master of horse; chief doorkeeper; chief butler; superintendent of banquets; an immediate guard; keeper of treasure and chessboard; keeper of arms and dresses; answerer of challenges from outside territories; avengers of insults; chief steward; keeper of hounds; inaugurator and deposer;
rearer of horses; carriers of wine from harbour to the court, builders and erectors of buildings; stewards off rent and tribute; hereditary historians and poets, men highly trained in the schools.
Shane's territory was now supposed to be safe from English interference or invasion. He and England's queen were friends. Sussex the Lord Deputy, wrote offering him his sister in marriage with a safe conduct to Dublin. His intention was to capture Shane. Later he sent him a present of wine. Elizabeth knew of the gift; knew what was in it.
