An Irish Easter Legend.
Being in the north-west of Ireland last summer, on the borders of Sligo and Donegal, I chanced upon a famous Shanachie, or story-teller, an Irish-speaking peasant, who possessed an almost inexhaustible fund of traditional, historical, and legendary lore, and whose manner of relating his stories was so graphic that each scene seemed to pass before his own and his listeners' eyes. Amongst the legends he told was one which is now very rare, being, as far as I am aware, known only to Irish-speaking people, and even to few amongst these, though the sculptured tomb bearing the pictured representation of the story being found in Kilree churchyard, almost in the extreme farthest part of Ireland from Donegal, would seem to show that in olden times the legend was popular throughout Ireland.
The old story represented by “a cock in a pot, crowing," was told me by the Shanachie as follows :
" It was at the time when our Saviour was in the grave, and that the soldiers who were set to watch the tomb were sitting round a fire they had lighted. They had killed a cock and put it in a pot on the fire to boil for their supper; and, as they sat around, they spoke together of the story that was told how He that was in the tomb they were guarding had prophesied that before three days were passed He would rise again from the dead. And one of the men said, in mockery: He will rise as sure as the cock that is in that boiling pot will crow again.'
No sooner were the words spoken than the lid of the pot burst open, the cock flew on to the edge, flapped his wings, sprinkling the soldiers with the boiling water, then crowed three times, and what he said each time was:
' Moc an o-o-o-ye, slaun !
Moc an o-o-o-ye, slaun !'
That is,' Son of the Virgin, Hail!' [Mac an Óige, slán] and ever since that hour this is what the cock crows : this is what we hear him say, and if you listen you, too, can hear the very words :
' Moc an o-o-o-ye, slaun !' '
I spell the sound of the Irish phonetically to try and imitate the peculiar softening of the words as an Irish speaker softens them, the prolonging out of the o-o-o sounding almost precisely like the bird's crow heard from a distance. At least so it has always sounded in my ears since I heard this beautiful legend. M. B.
Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland, Volume 27 (1897), 193-194.
Wall Street Journal: Why Christmas music starts so early
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14 comments:
Borders of Sligo and Donegal?
Leitrim, perhaps? Or were things different in 1897?
Thanks for making we aware of your blog. I will enjoy reading it.
There are no borders of Sligo and Dongegal, they surround the borders of Northern Ireland, we have counties perhaps that is what you meant?
Lads, lads, lads, come on now, it's a quotation. We get the idea. It's not going to win a Royal Geographical Society award. Is there something you'd like to say about the substance of the post... PLEASE!
I really enjoyed this post. We have lost touch with so many beautiful traditions. We need to get back in touch with them if we are going to have the spiritual renewal that the Pope has called for. I am hoping that you are going to post more of these traditions. Thank you for all your efforts.
Brigit, thank you for the thought effort and prayer that you put into all your posts. They are excellent. Anything on the saints of Leighlin?
I don't think the geography really matters. What matters is that we remember the Ressurrection.
Did everyone else notice the cock in the pot at the bottom of the cross? Fantastic!
I want to thank Brigit for this excellent post and for all that goes into producing them. A most apt image too. Can you tell me the source of the image and its background?
God bless the work!
I haven't heard this story many years ago. It was well known to the old people at the time. God bless you Brigit for retelling it.
I'm taking a short break in front of the computer to come on and thank all our regular contributers for the excellent work that they do and their kindness in doing it for us. Nobody who has checked out Brigit's own blog (and I encourage you all to do so) can doubt that she had a special talent for bringing the ancient Irish sources to life again but you should also give a little thought to the extreme kindness she shows in sharing them with us here. We all have our pet projects but few of us are given the gift of generosity to share them in this selfless way. Thanks to Brigit and thanks be to God for Brigit!
Was there not something about an English martyr who was found out in prison by being given cockrel meat and he wouldn't eat it so he must be a 'papist'?
I realy enjoyed this post and the other ones by Brigit.
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