The Downfall of the O’Donnells

Fearghal Óg


Truagh liom Máire agas Mairgrég,
ní beó bláth na n-umhailghég:
do chuir siad a nduilli dhíobh,
dá bhuime iad don imshníomh.

I am sad for Mary and Margaret,
the flower of the lowly branches lives no more:
they have shed their leaves,
two nurses of care are they.

Fa ríor, fa ríor, nocha nfhuil
braon ‘na ccroidhibh ón chumhaidh:
dá sheisi shuadh fhóid Uladh,
truagh mar táid ar ttiormughadh.

Alas, alas, grief hath left their hearts bloodless:
the two companions of the learned
of Ulster’s land, it is sad
that they have run dry.

Ionand toirrsi dhamhsa is doíph,
Aodh Ruadh céd-damhna ar cciachbhróin,
Rughroidhe Cabha dár ccrádh,
mana turbhuidhe a thérnádh.

Their grief is the same as mine,
Hugh Roe was the first cause of our anguish;
Rury of Cabha torments us,
his departure is the cause of our ruin.

Tréd bhocht gan aodhaire inn.
Cathbharr, cend einigh Éiriond,
fá líg thrá, ga truaighe dál,
atá uainde san Eadáill.

We are a poor flock without a sheperd.
Caffar, head of Erin’s honour,
lies beneath a gravestone -
what sadder fate? – Away in Italy.


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Source and more about the poem. Source for last verse. About the poet. Picture.

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