The Celtic Riddle
By Lyn Hamilton
<p>THE SONG OF AMAIRGEN</p>Ic tabairt a choisse dessi i nHerind asbert Amairgen Glúngel mac Miled in laídseo sís:
As he placed his right foot on Ireland Amairgen of the White Knee recited this poem:
Am gáeth i mmuir
I am the sea-swell
Am tonn trethain,
The furious wave
Am fúaimm mara
The roar of the sea
Am dam secht ndrenn
A stag of seven slaughters
Am séig i n-aill
A hawk above the cliff
Am dér gréne
A ray of the sun
Am caín lubae
The beauty of a plant
Am tore ar gàil
A boar enraged
Am hé i llind
A salmon in a pool
Am loch i mmaig
A lake in a plain
Am brí dánae
A flame of valor
Am gae i fodb feras fechtu
A piercing spear waging war
Am dé delbas do chin codnu
A god that fashions heroes for a lord
Cóich é no-d-gleith clochur sléibe
He who clears the mountain paths
Cía ón co-ta-gair áesa éscai
He who describes the moon's advance
Cía dú i llaig funiud gréne
And the place where the sun sets
Cía beir búar o thig Temrach
Who drives cattle off from Tara
Cía búar tethrach tibis cech dáin
That fine herd touches each skill
Cía dé delbas fáebru áine
A god that fashions weapons of glory
Commus caínte Cáinte gáeth
An able poet. Wise am I.
(Translation: Dr. Harry Roe)
<p>PROLOGUE</p>HERE'S a story attached to that, you know. It happened a long, long time ago, before mairgen and the Sons of Mil set foot on these shores, 'efore the children of the goddess Danu retreated to xe sidhe. Not so far back as the plague that killed the ons and daughters of Partholan. Not so far back as lat. But a long time ago, even so.
In those days, there were giants roamed the earth, nd creatures with one leg and one arm, like serpents, ame out of the sea. Back then, unsheathed weapons told tales, the sky could rain fire, and the shrieks of ie Hag would be heard in the night. And it was then tat the fiercest of battles, the struggle of light over drkness, were fought and won by the Tuatha de Da-aan. First they routed the Fir Bolg, then banished the readed Fomorians in the Battles of Mag Tuired.
The tales of their heroes, their leaders in battle, we tell to this day: Lugh, luminous, shining, destroyer of the Evil Eye; Diancecht, the healer; Nuada Silver land; and first and foremost, the Dagda.
Now there was a god! An excellent one, by his own description. A giant, with appetite to match. It was the Dagda had a cauldron in which pigs were cooked. This was no ordinary cauldron, nor ordinary pigs. Was always a pig ready, and the cauldron never empty, no matter how many came to dine. And, to top it all, the cauldron's contents were said to inspire the poet and revive the dead.
