Thereupon Brien Roe fled to Cork, where he solicited the aid of Thomas de Clare, a soldier of fortune, to reinstate him in his lordship, offering as a reward the territory of Tradree extending from Limerick to near the river Fergus. De Clare, another Strongbow, accepted the terms, raised an army of Anglo-Norman adventurers in Cork and Desmond, and returning with Brien. A.D. 1277, expelled his rival, and erected for himself, in the midst of the territory he had so acquired, the lofty and strong keep of Bunratty. Brien having bartered his independence for the possession of a despised authority, shortly after met the fate he might have expected, having been put to death by De Clare within the courtyard of his newly-erected fortress. Turlogh now succeeded to the Irish lordship; but De Clare having obtained a grant from the Crown of all Thomond, reconciled himself with "the dun-haired" Dermot, son of Brien, and setting him up as a rival candidate, divided the Dalcassians into the distinct and hostile factions of Clan-Turlogh and Clan Brien Roe, in the expectation of seizing the whole territory from whichever should succeed in exterminating the other. The final struggle between these infatuated rivals did not take place till 1317. The Clan-Turlogh, the night before the battle, encamped here, sleeping "in the grand, purple-marbled abbey, and in the polished, starry, and ornamented cells." The battle was joined in the neighbouring valley of Dubh-glinn, and eventuated in the total defeat of the the Clan Brien Roe. The slain chiefs were buried in the abbey, under 66 squared and flowered" flag-stone tombs, and the common soldiers cast in a dyke, with a mound heaped over it. The victors, contrary to DeClare's calculations, proved too strong for him also; and, leaving Bunratty in flames, he was obliged to recross the Shannon, in 1318, resigning the territory of Thomond to the sovereignty of the O'Briens, and the "wars of Turlogh" to the celebration of their bard, MacCraith. Apart from its historical associations, the scene itself is one of singular interest. The surrounding pastures are among the best in this country of sweet grass, Some of the tillage lands have borne so many crops of grain in succession without manure, that I hesitate to commit myself to the number I heard stated on the spot. The view over the wide, green valley is uninterrupted by trees. All the surrounding features are on a great scale, and the grey shingle-covered mountain-slopes lie far enough from the eye to derive a harmonising tint from the air. On the slope of the hill behind the abbey, about 200 yards from the walls, is the focus of a marvellous echo, which mimics the tone of the speaker, while it repeats the words of a short sentence, in a really exquisite manner. Leaving Connor O'Brien to rest under the splendid fane raised by his father, I left the comparatively modern abbey to visit the "old" church of Ought-mama, about a mile distant on the upper verge of the green land, where a few steps might bring the meditative recluse into the stony desert. Here we are again in the midst of Cyclopean gables and Egyptian doorways, massive and unimpaired as the first day the huge blocks that form them were erected. Here also we find again the single stone which formed the arch of the original east window, carefully deposited at the doorway, while the whole of the original east gable has been removed, to make way for a tenth or eleventh century chancel. Of the additional part, the chancel arch and some foundations alone remain, but quite enough to show, by the difference of masonry, that they belong to a more recent period. The same alteration appears to have been made in the Cathedral of Glendalough; and, generally, it would appear that the very old Irish churches consisted of one apartment without any division. The western doorway of Ought-mama is one of the most massive and imposing of those slope-jambed entrances, made familiar to us by Petrie's illustrations. It has probably stood for near thirteen centuries, and seems capable of standing for thousands of years to come. The desert of stone, stretching from behind Ought-mama up the acclivity of the Corrin mountains, gives place on their flat summits to a rough pasture, which extends to the eastern verge of the district where the mountain chain stoops suddenly in a long precipice, running north and south over the vast level plain of Kiltartan. The margin of the plain, to within a short distance of the foot of the precipice, is composed almost wholly of the flat, bare limestone rock. In the intermediate space is a tract of meadow and pasture, looking greener by the contrast; and here nestling at the foot of the cliff stands the hermitage of MacDuach, with his holy well and penitential stations. The capricious fountain has deserted its ancient spring, and now bubbles up outside the sacred enclosure. The ruins are not remarkable for anything but their seclusion; for, even from the brow of the mountain above, the eye cannot discern a human habitation, save at a distance of many miles on the plain; and in the little amphitheatre below, nothing is to be seen but the green grass, the grey walls of living rock, and the vault of the sky. One great flat tract of rock in the stony desert outside has been long celebrated in our Irish hagiology as the scene of one of MacDuach's chief miracles. The tracks and indentations with which all this limestone district abounds, happen to be particularly numerous here, and from a fanciful resemblance to cups and dishes, and the hoof-tracks of horses, have given occasion to a legend sufficiently puerile to excite a smile, yet vivid enough to have held its place in the traditions of the people for more than a thousand years. The story is, that Guaire, King of Connaught, feasting at Gort, and bethinking himself of MacDuach and his disciples, then fasting in the desert of Burren, ejaculated a pious wish that the viands just set before him were rather placed before the holy man and his companions, who so much more needed such a repast. The wish was no sooner uttered than gratified. A band of angels immediately transferred the feast through the air to this natural rock table, where some indentations of the surface preserve the form of the plates and dishes, and other caprices of the disintegrated limestone indicate the hoof-tracks and foot-marks of the king's dogs and horses, arrested by preternatural power in their pursuit of the fugacious banquet, while their masters were compelled to witness at a reverent distance the consumption of their viands by the son of Duach and his holy company. The spot has borne its present name of Boher-na-mias, or the "Road of the Dishes," for perhaps a thousand years; and the tale of King Guaire and his courtiers is as fresh in the mouths of the peasantry at this day as it was when first committed to writing by the chronicler in Colgan. Seeing how little change that long lapse of time has made in these parti cular indentations, one cannot but reflect with amazement on the ages that must have elapsed since the first disintegrations of the limestone surface, the gradual extension of which has worn and honeycombed it into the multitude of fantastical forms which it everywhere assumes. By what a slow process has the earth been formed which now sends up those tufts of succulent grass out of every crevice, and makes even Boher-na-mias pasturable, though at a little distance seemingly no more than a bare floor of marble! But it is not alone in these minor peculiarities of the surface that this limestone formation is remarkable. The whole tract from Gort to Blackhead is full of the most singular freaks of nature, as well on the great scale as the small. Just south of MacDuach's cell, an outlying ridge of the Slieve Corrin chain runs into circular stepped and terraced formations, so strongly resembling hillforts, that but for their bulk one might imagine every hill-top crowned with a huge Cyclopean fortress. One of the most singular spots in this singular country is the valley of Glencolumbkille, at the northern extremity of which this hermitage of MacDuach is situated. Surrounded by these scarped and terraced eminences crowning its grey rocky boundaries of mountain, it subsides into a green hollow, dotted with holly, and hazel, and mountain ash, which at some not very distant time has formed the demesne of a large castle of the O'Loghlens. The ruined and ivy-mantled castle stands on a green knoll rising out of the hol low, overlooked by crags and terraces, but out of bow-shot, so that we must not despise the military engineering of the founder. The O'Loghlens must have been a family of great power in this district. No fewer than twenty of their castles are enumerated in the barony of Burren in the survey of Clare of the time of Elizabeth, referred to in the former part of this paper. It may enable us to form a pretty accurate estimate of the wealth and population of the county at that time, to know that the total number of castles of men of the rank of chiefs, specified in the survey, is 187. Looking at the remains of these fort alices now, one cannot suppose that the proprietary who occupied them were less wealthy than the class who form the present upper class of gentry; and at present the number of justices of peace the entrance is into the east end of it (for it lies east and west) about midway. There are the ruins of an old church, and a little westward of it an even plain, of about an acre of ground; on the north side of which, under a The mouth steep rugged cliff, lies the cave. for the county, who may be taken to represent the class in question, is 120. The condition of the labouring poor is probably much the same as it always was, save that, perhaps, when a lord proceeds to distrain for his rents, he does not now deem it necessary to carry fire and sword through the land of the defaulters. Emerging from Glencolumbkille, and taking the road to Kilfenora, which leads over the high table-land of Carn, we enter on a wilderness of rock and bog, full of deep holes, fissures, caverns, and underground water-courses; and abounding with foxes, badgers, and weasels. The general level is about six hundred feet above the sea, but in one place the surface sinks to about half that elevation; and here, through a course of half a mile, a considerable river runs on the surface, issuing from a cavern at one end, and absorbed in a cavern at the other. A chapel, a police barrack, and two cabins, constitute the town of Carn, seated in the centre of this rough territory. As the traveller proceeds westward, the surface becomes still more rugged and stony, and the course of the subterraneous waters still more capricious. Through all this limestone country in the west of Ireland, from Castlebar to Killaloe, every one is familiar with the periodical floodings of low-lying tracts, called turloghs. In almost all these the waters rise from springsand fissures, and return by the way they came, being evidently the overflow of internal reservoirs. Kilcorney, in the district of which I now speak, was one of these turloghs, fed by internal accumulations, which used to burst forth with unaccountable violence. The philosophical Dublin apothecary, Charles Lucas, addressed an interesting account of it to Sir Hans Sloane, in 1736. He describes the district as being "that part of which it is reported that Oliver Cromwell said (he should have said Ireton) that he could neither see water enough to drown a man, wood enough to hang a man, or earth enough to bury a man in." He then gives this account of the Cave of Kilcorney :— At "The place is a pretty low valley in comparison to the hills that surround it. The of it is level with the plain, about three feet diameter. It has been much larger, but was blocked up with lime and stone, which plainly appears still, but to what purpose is not known. Some conjecture it was an attempt to restrain the great flux of water,; but the fabulous natives, who tell numberless romantic tales of it, say it is a passage to the antipodes, and that a stud of fine horses have been seen coming out of it very often, to eat the corn sown in the valley. They further add, that many stratagems have been tried to catch some of them, but, with the loss of some men's lives, they could catch but one stone-horse, the breed of which being very valuable, they say is kept to this day by O'Loghlen, which with them is a kind of titular king that they pay great respect to. But to return to the cave. When you pass this narrow entrance, it grows much wider and loftier. The floor is a pretty even rock, from two to four or five yards over; but when passed, the floor is plain and even as before, for about two hundred yards, which is the farthest that any one known has ventured into it. For my part, I did not pass this pit, but have seen several that did, whose veracity I can depend upon. Most people that have gone into it, went by a thread or clue; others have carried a bundle of straw, and dropped it by the way to guide their return, which seems altogether unnecessary, there being no windings or chambers throughout of any extent. It is all over, even in the depth of winter, as dry as any place of the kind under ground can be; and, what seems very prodigious is, that it often pours forth such a deluge as covers the adjacent plain, sometimes with above twenty feet depth of water. The times of its overflowing are uncertain and irregular. Sometimes it does not happen above once in a year or two, but most commonly three or four times a-year. It is sometimes observed to succeed great rains and storms, though it often happens without either. "The neighbouring inhabitants are alarmed at its approach, by a great noise, as of many falling waters at a distance, which continues for some hours before, and generally all the time of the flood. "The water comes forth with extreme rapidity from the mouth of the cave, and likewise from some smaller holes in the low ground, attended with a surprising noise; it flows for a day or two, and always returns into the same cave, and partly into the small holes from whence it was observed to come before, but with a more slow and tardy course. The water is of a putrid quality, like stagnated pondwater, insipid as spring-water. It always leaves a filthy, muddy scum upon the ground it covered, which greatly enriches the soil. It has been known sometimes (though rarely) to overflow and ebb in six hours' time, but in a much less quantity. "There is neither river nor lake anywhere in that part of the country, and it is above six miles from the sea. There are very near it several much lower valleys, in which there is no appearance of water, unless a little rain-water collected in a pit, in the fissure of a rock, or the like."-Phil. Trans. 1738, 40, p. 360. What, indeed, becomes of all the water that falls on this area, is a question admitting of a good deal of speculation. No river-at least no stream at all worthy of the name of a riverflows, sub dio, out of it; and, although the upper waters of the Fergus may, to some extent, be derived from the eastern margin of the district, the volume of that river is quite inadequate to the drainage of so large a surface. At present the flow of water, wherever it goes to, lies deeper than it formerly did, as appears by the drying up of many springs and turloghs, this of Kilcorney among the number. The scarcity of water is, indeed, at present a serious evil in many parts of the barony. At Kilfenora, the town well, covered in by Donatus Mac Donogh, in 1687, "by episcopal permission," as a Latin inscription informs us, is so scantily supplied in summer, that the water has to be caught guttatim in cups and porringers. Close to Kilfenora is one of those stone-plashed, Cyclopean fortresses similar to Dun-Angus, called CaherFlaherty. Its dimensions are not comparable to those of the great Arran citadel; but the arrangement of the ramparts and the distribution of the stone caltrops, if I may use the expression, in the space between the body of the fortress and the outer circumvallation, are the same. Kilfenora is a small and declining place. "The reason," said my guide, in his Irish idiom, "that is leaving the poor so badly off in this place, is the goodness of the land." And it is quite true. The land is so excellent for pasturage, that it cannot be had for tillage. The rock surface here has almost entirely disappeared, and the eye ranges, refreshed, over wide tracts of green, dotted with sleek herds, but barren of that first and most important of all produce, a comfortable peasantry. The pillars standing in One of the In descending from Carn to Kilfenora, the road leads by the fine old castle of Leimaneagh, or Horseleap, the chief residence, until within the last century, of the feudalized O'Briens. They appear to have levied toll here, as well as on several of the other leading roads in the vicinity. of their gates are still three or four places. O'Loghlens, that race whose hereditary mission it seems to have been to curb the ambition of the dominant family, resented this encroachment on the public rights, and, at the head of a sufficient force, probably the last private levy for a warlike purpose ever made in Ireland, prostrated the gates and established the freedom of these highways ever since. The lords of Leimaneagh have left behind them an unenviable character for tyranny, and their ladies have not been more fortunate in their reputation for female virtues. The name of the place has fastened on one of these princesses the principal part in a terrible tragedy, terminating with the escape of her intended victim by a wonderful leap of his horse; but every castle of Horselcap has the same story, and the name for a locality is not an unusual one. Kilfenora possesses one very fine sculptured cross, and several other objects of antiquarian interest ; and the whole of the parish of Noughaval, in which it is situated, abounds with monuments of pagan and early Christian times; but by this time I apprehend the reader will have had enough of antiquities, and will not be indisposed to see his travelling companion safely established on the mail-car to Ennistymon, whence a similar conveyance will carry him to Milltown Malbay, and a two hours' further drive deposit him, a stouter, if not a wiser, and certainly not a sadder man, for his ramble, at Kilkee. S. F. VOL. XLI.-NO. CCXLIV. 2 M ARCHYTAS AND THE MARINER. HORAT. OD. 1. 28. (See DUBLIN UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE, January, 1853, p. 90.) MARINER. Thee of the sea and land, and unsummed sand, The Mensurator, The dearth of some poor earth from a friend's hand For sepulture, here on the Matine strand; Nor aught the better Art thou, Archytas, now, in thought to have spann'd ARCHYTAS. The sire of Pelops, too, though guest and host Beloved Tithonus into air withdrew: And Minos, at the council-board of Jove Familiar once above, Hell holds; and hell with stark embrace anew Constrains Panthoïdes, for all his lore, Though by the shield he bore In Trojan jousts, snatched from the trophied fane, He testified that death kills nought within The man, but nerve and skin, But bore his witness and his shield in vain : For one night waits us all; one downward road Must by all feet be trod; All heads to Proserpine at last must come : The furious Fates to Mars's bloody shows Cast these: the seas whelm those: Commixed and close the young and old troop home. Me also prone Orion's comrade swift, The South-wind, in the drift Of white Illyrian waves caught from the day: But, shipmate, thou refuse not to my dead Bones and unburied head, The cheap poor tribute of the burial clay! So whatsoe'er the East may foam or roar Against the Hesperian shore, Let crack Venusia's woods, thou safe and free; While great God Neptune, the Tarentines' trust, And Jupiter the Just, With confluent wealth reward thy piety. Ah! would thou leave me? wouldst thou leave, indeed, Under the dead man's curse? Beware! the day Three handfuls of sea sand, and go thy way. S. F. |