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Úrchnoc Chéin Mhic Cáinte ~ The Lush Hill of Cian Mac Cáinte


Ceacht 6: Úrchnoc Chéin Mhic Cáinte ~ The Lush Hill of Cian Mac Cáinte

Ag ceiliúradh foghlama na Gaeilge trí sheanamhráin ~ Celebrating learning Irish through old songs


Curtha in eagar ag Risteard Mac Gabhann


Is as Cian Mac Cáinte, athair Lugh Lámhfhada, duine de mhórphearsan na miotas Gaelach agus Ceilteach, a ainmníodh an cnoc seo. Inniu is faoin ainm leamh Béarla Killen Hill is fearr eolas air agus tá sé suite cúpla míle ar an taobh thiar thuaidh de Dhún Dealgan. Is gné an-neamhshuntasach den tírdhreach anois é de bhrí go ndearnadh cairéal den chnoc sa 19ú Céad agus ar an dóigh seo cailleadh cuid mhór den mhullach agus scriosadh na séadchomharthaí a bhí le feiceáil air. Nuair a chum Peadar Ó Doirnín (1684-1769) an t-amhrán, bhí Cnoc Chéin Mhic Cáinte fós slán agus ina ionad lán d’iontas agus de dhiamhracht agus ina spreagadh an-chumhachtach ag filí Oirialla. Is fearr aithne ar Pheadar Ó Doirnín mar fhile amhrán grá, agus is sampla iontach dá chumadóireacht an t-amhrán seo lena shaibhreas maisiúchán agus maorgacht friotail. Is fear eile as Oirialla, Peadar Ó Dubhda, a chum an ceol, a chluintear coiteanta leis inniu, Bhain sé duais Oireachtais leis i 1907.


Cian Mac Cáinte, the father of the major figure of Irish and Celtic mythology Lugh Lámhfhada, is the mythic figure after whom this hill was named. Today it is known more prosaically as Killen Hill and is located a few miles northwest of Dundalk. It is a rather inauspicious feature of the landscape nowadays, largely due to its being used as a quarry in the 19th Century, which greatly reduced its height and destroyed the archaeological remains on its summit. When Peadar Ó Doirnín (1684-1769) composed the song, the hill of Cian Mac Cáinte was still intact and was a place of wonder and mystery and a

powerful stimulus to the imagination of the poets of southeast Ulster. Peadar Ó Doirnín is known best as a composer of love songs and this, with its rich scheme of ornamentation and elevated, sophisticated language, is an excellent example of the genre. The music now associated with it is attributed to Dundalk man Peadar Ó Dubhda (1881-1971), who won a prize with it at the 1907 Oireachtas.


A shuaircbhean séimh na gcuachfholt péarlach,

Gentle joyous lady of the lustrous curling tresses,

Gluais liom féin ar ball beag,

Come away with me a while,

Tráth is buailte cléir is tuataí i néalta,

When the clergy and the lay folk lie in deep slumber,

Ina suan faoi éadaí bána,

Asleep under white coverlets,

Ó thuaidh go mbéam* i bhfad uathu araon, [*go mbeimid]

To the north where we will be far away from them all,

Teacht nuachruth gréine amárach,

With the new rising sun tomorrow,

Gan ghuais linn féin in uaigneas aerach,

Secure by ourselves in delightful seclusion,

San uaimh sin Chéin Mhic Cáinte.

In that haven of Cian Mac Cáinte.


A phlúr na maighdean is úire gné,

Flower of maids of freshest complexion,

Thug clú le scéimh ón Ádhamhchlann*, [*clann Ádhaimh]

Famed for beauty in the human race,

A chúl na bpéarlaí, a rún na héigse,

Lass with the lustrous hair, inspiration of poets,

A dhúblas féile is fáilte,

Who doubles generosity and welcome,

A ghnúis mar ghréin* i dtús gach lae ghil, [*grian]

Countenance bright as the sun at the dawning of every day,

A mhúchas léan le gáire,

Who extinguishes anguish with laughter,

Is é mo chumha gan mé is tú, a shiúr, linn féin,

It’s my sorrow, my love, we’re not together,

Sa dún sin Chéin Mhic Cáinte.

In that haven of Cian Mac Cáinte.


A rún mo chléibh, nach mar siúd ab fhearr duit,

Love of my heart, wouldn’t it be best for you,

Tús do shaoil a chaitheamh liom,

To spend the start of life with me,

'S gan a bheith i gclúid faoi léan ag búr gan chéill,

And not be in a corner distressed by a senseless boor,

I gceann tuirne is péire cardaí,

Working at a spinning wheel and a pair of carding combs,

Gheobhair* ceol na dtéad le lúth na méar, [*gheobhaidh tú]

You will have stringed music played by agile fingers,

Do do dhúscadh* is véarsaí grá, [*dhúiseacht]

To waken you and verses of love,

'S níl dún faoin ghréin chomh súgach aerach,

And there’s no haven under the sun as lively and joyous,

Le húrchnoc Chéin Mhic Cáinte.

As the lush hill of Cian Mac Cáinte.


Tá an t-amhrán seo le cluinstin ag Cór Thaobh a’ Leithid ar an albam

Siansaí DMGB 002



An Chúileann ~ The Fair Maiden


Ag ceiliúradh foghlama na Gaeilge trí sheanamhráin, curtha in eagar ag Risteard Mac Gabhann


Ceacht 5: An Chúileann ~ The Fair Maiden

Ceann de na hamhráin is cáiliúla i gceolchiste na Gaeilge agus creidtear gur

Muiris Ó Dubhagáin, fi le as an Bhinn Bhorb i gContae Th ír Eoghain a chum

é sa 17ú Céad. Is ó ‘cúl’ agus ‘fi onn’ a thagann an téarma ‘cúileann’ agus seans

go dtagraíonn sé do stíl ghruaige mná a bhí faiseanta san am, díreach mar a

thagrófaí inniu don ‘chailín le stíl ghruaige punc’.


One of the most celebrated and widely known Irish songs, which is commonly

attributed to Muiris Ó Dubhagáin, a poet from Benburb, Co. Tyrone, who

lived in the 17th century. The term cúileann is derived from cúl (head of hair)

and fionn (blond), and may refer to a distinctive hairstyle of the time, just as

a woman nowadays might be referred to as ‘the one with the punk hairstyle’.


Téacs an amhráin agus an t-aistriúchán/Text of the song and translation


An bhfaca tú an Chúileann ‘s í ag siúl ar na bóithre,

Did you see the Fair One walking on the roads,

Maidin gheal drúchta ‘s gan smúit ar a bróga?

On a bright dew-fi lled day and her shoes spotless?

‘S iomaí ógánach súilghlas ag tnúth lena pósadh,

Many a green-eyed lad is hoping to marry her,

Ach ní bhfaighidh siad mo rúnsa ar an gcuntas* is dóigh leo. [ *Abair ‘cúntas’]

But they’ll not get my love as they imagine.


An bhfaca tú mo bhábán lá breá ‘s í ina haonar,

Did you see my babe one fi ne day alone,

A cúl dualach drithleannach go slinneán síos léi?

Her gleaming hair in tresses down to her shoulders?

Mil ar an ógbhean is rós breá ina héadan,

A lass sweet as honey and a fi ne rose on her brow,

‘S is dóigh le gach spreasán gur leannán leis féin í.

And every good-for-nothing thinks she is his darling.


An bhfaca tú mo spéirbhean ‘s í taobh leis an toinn, [tonn]

Did you see my dream girl sitting beside the sea,

Fáinní óir ar a méara ‘s í ag réiteach a cinn?

Gold rings on her fi ngers combing her hair?

‘S é dúirt an Paorach, a bhí ina mhaor ar an loing, [long]

Said Mister Power, who was steward of the ship,

Go mb’fhearr leis aige féin í ná Éire gan roinn.

That he’d rather have her than to have Ireland without division.


Leagan eile iontach ó Siobhán Armstrong anseo:



Fáth Mo Bhuartha (The Cause of My Anguish)


Ag ceiliúradh foghlama na Gaeilge trí sheanamhráin, curtha in eagar ag Risteard Mac Gabhann


Ceacht 4: Fáth Mo Bhuartha ~ The Cause of My Anguish

Is minice anois a chluintear an t-amhrán álainn seo mar cheol uirlise ná mar

amhrán, agus is trua sin nó tá na véarsaí iontach álainn chomh maith. Tá patrún

saibhir ríme go cothrománach ar gach líne agus go hingearach trí gach véarsa,

a chuireann diminsean suntasach eile le ceolmhaireacht an amhráin. Tá an saol

crua atá i gceist sa mheafar ‘turas na Cruaiche’ ag deireadh an chéad véarsa,

ag tagairt don oilithreacht cháiliúil (agus anróiteach) go Cruach Phádraig i

gContae Mhaigh Eo. Is é an file as Maigh Eo Riocard Bairéad (1739 – 1810)

is mó a luaitear leis an amhrán breá seo.


This beautiful song is probably better known now as an instrumental piece at

traditional music seisiúin, which is a pity, since the words are also very attractive.

There is a rich pattern of vowel rhymes arranged horizontally and vertically

throughout each verse, which adds another dimension to the musicality of the

composition. The hard life implied in the ‘Cruach journey’ metaphor at the end of the first

verse is probably a reference to the famous penitential pilgrimage mountain

Cruach Phádraig in County Mayo. The song is attributed in some sources to

the Mayo poet Riocard Bairéad (1739 - 1810).


Téacs an amhráin agus an t-aistriúchán/Text of the song and translation


Is é fáth mo bhuartha nach bhfaighim cead cuarta,

The cause of my anguish is that I’m not permitted to visit,

Sa ghleanntán uaigneach mar a mbíonn mo ghrá,

The lonely glen where dwells my love,

Bíonn mil ar luachair ann, im a’s uachtar,

There’s honey on rushes there, butter and cream,

A’s i dtús an fhuachta bíonn na crainn faoi bhláth,

And at the start of the cold (season) the trees are in bloom,

Níl gaoth aduaidh ann, níl sneachta crua ann,

There’s no north wind there, there’s no hard snow there,

Tá caladh a’s cuan ann ag long a’s ag bád,

There’s harbour and shelter there for ship and boat,

A’s tá tuilleadh bua ann, níl turas na Cruaiche ann

And there’s more benefit there, there’s no hard life there,

Don té a dhéanfadh suas lena mhuirnín bán.

For the man who’d make up to his fair love.


Is é dúirt mo stór liom, ó bhí tú óg deas

My love said to me, since you were young and pretty,

Go ndéanfá foghlaim ar éalú liom,

That you would contrive to elope with me,

A’s nach mbíonn tráthnóna nó maidin fhómhair,

For there isn’t an evening or an autumn morning,

Nach tú an réalt eolais a bhíonn ag dul romhainn,

That you’re not my guiding star going before us,

Ag siúl na móinte a’s na gcoillte cnómhar’,

Walking the heathlands and the nut-filled woods,

Ní bhíonn orm brón ná duibheagán croí,

I’m never in sorrow or heavy of heart,

Ach mé bheith pósta le mo mhíle stóirín,

If I were just married to my thousand treasures,

A’s mo lámh go bródúil ar a brollach mín.

And my hand proudly on her gentle breast.


Leagan eile iontach ó Eleanor Shanley anseo:



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