OMNIUM SANCTORUM HIBERNIAE

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  • The Rosary of Ireland

    I have come across many items in the Victorian religious press written on the theme of Ireland and the Rosary, but the piece below, published in Australia’s Catholic Freeman’s Journal, struck me as unusual in a number of ways. ‘The Rosary of Ireland’ applies the traditional division of Joyous, Sorrowful and Glorious Mysteries to the history of this country and employs many of the popular tropes of the National Revival. Ireland of the joyous mysteries is romantically portrayed as an island set in a silver sea, filled with fair maidens and valiant warriors, which embraces Saint Patrick and its Christian destiny. The mystic isle is then transformed into the insula sanctorum, home of Patrick, Columba and Brendan and the ‘countless thousands more’ who contribute to the golden age of the saints. It is interesting to see a mention of the angel Victor, described in a footnote as ‘the Guardian Angel of Ireland’. The sorrowful mysteries employ familiar tropes of the Penal era – the Mass Rock, the struggle to maintain faith and nationhood and exile – but it was not until I reached the glorious mysteries that I realized I was not reading something written in the nineteenth century at all. For the glorious mysteries relate to the achievement of Irish independence, and it was only at that point that I noted that The Rosary of Ireland had been published in 1938, one year after the promulgation of the Irish Constitution, article one of which declared that:

    The Irish nation hereby affirms its inalienable, indefeasible,and sovereign right to choose its own form of Government, to determineits relations with other nations, and to develop its life, political,economic and cultural, in accordance with its own genius and traditions.

    It is clear that our writer, M. Eugenie Hill, acknowledged the part played by the literary revival in Ireland taking her place among the nations. She makes more than one reference to ‘Inisfail’, a poetic name for Ireland, but perhaps more specifically a reference to the work of Aubrey de Vere (1814-1902):

    Published in 1862, Inisfail is the longest single poem by an Irish writer in English, a distinction which ought to grant it at least a portion of the critical attention which it currently lacks. Subtitled A Lyrical Chronicle of Ireland, it is composed of a sequence of one hundred and thirty-two lyric poems, each of which is a meditation upon an aspect of suffering and salvation. The sequence as a whole is structured around an historical narrative frame proposing continuities in Irish history from the time of the Cromwellian invasions to the end of the Penal Laws, with references to the events of the 1840s.

    Chris Morash, “The Little Black Rose Revisited: Church, Empire and National Destiny in the Writings of Aubrey de Vere.” The Canadian Journal of Irish Studies 20, no. 2 (1994): 45–52.

    De Vere’s poems were frequently quoted by Victorian writers on the saints and the early medieval Irish church and it was in Inisfail that he wrote of ‘the little black rose that would be red at last’, which the writer of The Rosary of Ireland links with the brilliant Easter sun. Is this a reference to the Easter Rising of 1916 and perhaps by extension to the poet revolutionary, Joseph Mary Plunkett (1887-1916) and his poem I See His Blood upon the Rose? The Rosary of Ireland ends with another Irish revolutionary, Robert Emmett (1778-1803) and a reference to his speech from the dock where he declared ‘when my country takes her place among the nations of the earth, then, and not till then, let my epitaph be written.’

    So I think that these literary allusions distinguish The Rosary of Ireland  from the many other offerings found in the popular religious press on the theme of Ireland’s relationship to the rosary. It was interesting too to see the survival of the ethos of the Victorian ‘Celtic Revival’ in a work published in the 1930s and I only wish I knew more of its author:

    THE ROSARY OF  IRELAND.

    Joyous.

    Before the Christian era ages agone,
    Ere Bethlehem’s bright star in glory shone,
    A beauteous land there was, a land most fair,
    Set in a silver sea, a jewel rare.

    A land of joy and peace, laughter and song,
    Famed for her ladies fair, and warriors strong.
    Erin the brave, for glorious deeds renowned,
    Is still, alas! by Pagan fetters bound.

    But lo! a guardian watches o’er the land,
    ‘Tis Victor, from the shining angel band;
    The time is come at last to break the chain.
    And for his chosen children, Heaven to gain.

    The Angel Victor* speeds like lightning rays,
    Bends o’er the sleeping Patrick, softly says,
    ‘Come, holy youth, the Irish voices call,
    Come with the Light of Faith, and lift the pall.’

    And now for Erin dawns the wondrous day.
    Nearer, and nearer still, with flashing ray,
    A dazzling light appears, as from afar,
    Glimmering and twinkling like the Morning Star.

    ‘Who dares enkindle fire’ the Druids cry,
    ‘Before our sacred fire is lit must die.
    Go! quench the light that now on Tara gleams,
    Or never shall we dim its shining beams.’

    Clothed in his Sacred Vestments, Patrick spoke,
    And Erin from the sleep of death awoke,
    The Druid idols from her now she spurns,
    Then gladly to the Faith of Patrick turns.

    Swiftly the torch of Patrick lights all round
    — Monasteries, Churches, Convents, Schools abound.
    Island of Saints and Scholars thro’ the ages,
    Leaving no blot nor stain on Erin’s page.

    Columba, Brendan, countless thousands more
    Sail o’er the ocean far from Erin’s shore,
    With Cross in hand, and Patrick’s flag unfurled,
    Her Missioners go forth, to teach the world.

    *Victor is the Guardian Angel of Ireland.

    Sorrowful.

    But Erin’s star of joy is setting fast,
    And bitter sorrow must be hers at last,
    Since she has had the joy of happy years,
    She now must share her Lord’s deep woe and tears.

    Ireland of Sorrow, like your Lord to be
    Despised, derided, spat upon, as He,
    Pierced to the Soul and garments dyed bright red,
    Holding the Cross through centuries of dread.

    Deep as the sea, as Mary’s sorrows were,
    Dolorous Ireland, in her grief you share,
    Faithful till death, and setting death at nought,
    Guarding the Priceless Pearl by Patrick brought.

    The fight goes on against the demon band,
    The powers of darkness rend the faithful land.
    And Erin, of the Chalice, drinks so deep,
    Her treasured Faith and Nationhood to keep.

    And as a light in darkness shines more bright
    The Faith of Ireland shone through darkest night.
    Tho’ trodden underfoot by ruthless foes,
    More gloriously with deeper lustre glows.

    A vivid redness floods the evening sky,
    As flames from burning churches mount on high,
    And bells give forth a harsh and clarion call,
    When lofty towers and noble spires fall.

    The shamrock shows a deeply crimson stain,
    Where round the Mass Rock Priests and people slain,
    And bowed in grief, as Erin’s thousands fell,
    Unconquered still, she braves the gates of hell.

    Scattered afar the Children of the Gael,
    Exiled and banished from their Innisfail,
    They plant the Cross of Christ in foreign climes,
    And thro’ these exiled ones, the Mass bell chimes.

    Glorious.

    But Erin’s long and dreadful woe is past.
    The sun burst’s rising in the East at last,
    And spite of centuries of pain and loss,
    She stands Victorious beneath the Cross.

    Hail! valiant Eire, bravest of the brave.
    Her exiled Children call across the wave,
    The ‘small black rose’ *puts on its crimson bloom,
    The brilliant Easter sun dispels the gloom.

    Then silvery clear ring out the joyous bells,
    Victory and peace their happy message tells,
    Erin among the nations takes her place,
    A noble nation and a noble race.

    Hail glorious Eire, let us joy with you;
    To God and Patrick may you e’er be true
    Thro’ all the ages that are still to be
    May you maintain your spotless purity.

    The sin of heresy will ne’er defile
    The peerless Faith you hold, dear Emerald isle,
    You who for centuries have been appointed
    The Cradle and the School of God’s Anointed.

    The glorious band of patriots we hail
    Who gave their lives for you, sweet Innisfail,
    Your freedom won, and now in letters gold,
    May gentle Emmet’s epitaph be told.

    *’The Little Black Rose,’ by Aubrey de Vere.

    M. EUGENIE HILL.

    Catholic Freeman’s Journal Thursday 19 May 1938, page 37

     

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  • An Old Irish Prayer

    When I saw a 1912 article entitled ‘An Old Irish prayer’  in the The Sacred Heart Review I was expecting to find an early medieval text, but instead found the familiar bedtime prayer, ‘Now I lay me down to sleep’, known to generations of children but not, as far as I was aware, one with any particular Irish associations. But the anonymous writer claims that this prayer originated in Ireland, at ‘the golden time when Eire was Eirie’ no less. I haven’t myself come across the ‘wilder surmises’ linking Saints Patrick, Colum Cille and Aidan with the spread of the prayer, but its survival is attributed to ‘those conservators of tradition, the Irish peasants’. Having argued for the prayer’s Irish roots we suddenly find ourselves at the court of the Norman king William Rufus, where a pious child recites the prayer as the wicked monarch lies ill. The author ends by giving us a modern English version followed by an alleged ‘ancient Irish’ version. I suspect that this prayer is part of a later medieval European-wide tradition in which Ireland was represented, but was not the original source. The collection of traditional prayers by An t-Athair Diarmuid Ó Laoghaire S.J., Ár bPaidreacha Dúchais, includes an Irish language version, as does the Abhráin diadha chúige Connacht, of Douglas Hyde. So, I will append one of the Irish versions (with updated modern spelling) from Hyde’s 1906 Religious Songs of Connacht, along with his literal and poetic translations:

    An Old Irish Prayer.

    The universal night prayer of the children, beginning “Now I lay me down to sleep ” is only one thousand years older than Protestantism, although many of the misinformed appear to believe that it is of Protestant origin, says the Dublin Irish Catholic. The old, old Catholic prayer runs back to the golden time when Eire was Eirie, and there have been wilder surmises than this: that St. Patrick taught it to the children of the High King at Tara, that St. Columbkille bore it to Iona, and that St. Aidan carried it from Iona to England when he founded Lindisfarne Abbey. In one form or other the little prayer has descended through the ages from mother to child among those conservators of tradition, the Irish peasants. In the days of that precursor of Henry VIII the irreligious, dissolute William Rufus -that is to say, in the eleventh century— the old baby prayer was suddenly presented at Court. It was at a time when the corrupt monarch lay dangerously ill. He had banished St. Anselm and Anselm’s clergy, and in the hour of mortal need he was without spiritual help. Trembling for the salvation of his soul, he commanded his ungodly courtiers to kneel and pray for him. They knelt and muttered some jargon. The king would not be satisfied: he ordered them to pray audibly. But these, his chosen friends and flatterers, were of his own impious stripe; not one of them could say an intelligent prayer. At last they bethought them of a little page who had but lately come to Court, and who had been observed and mocked at his night prayers. The child was brought to the king’s bedside; he knelt and prayed:—

    Matthew, Mark, Luke and John
    Bless the bed that I lie on.
    There be four corners on my bed;
    There be four angels overspread;
    Two at my head, two at my feet,
    To be my guardians while I sleep —
    And if I die before I wake,
    Sweet Mary’s Son, my soul pray take.

    The modern English form is very much shorter: —

    Now I lay me down to sleep;
    I pray Thee,
    Lord, my soul to keep,
    If I should die before I wake,
    I pray Thee, Lord,
    my soul to take.
    Amen.

    One ancient Irish version runs thus: —

    Or ere I go this night to sleep.
    I give my Lord my soul to keep.
    There are four corners to my bed;
    Four angels round about my head—
    Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.
    God bless the bed I rest upon.
    And if I die ere I awake,
    I give my Lord my soul to take.
    Amen.

    The Sacred Heart Review, Volume 47, Number 14, 23 March 1912.

    Ceithre Phosta ar mo Leaba.

    Ceithre Phosta ar mo Leaba,
    Ceithre aingeal orthu scartha
    Mathú, Marcas, Lúc a’s Seán
    Agus Dia do mo chumhdach arís go lá.

    FOUR POSTS. 

    Four posts around my bed,
    Four angels have it spread,
    Mathew, Mark, Luke, and John,
    Keep me, O God, till the day shall dawn.

    Literally. —
    Four posts on my bed
    four angels on my spreading (?)
    Mathew, Mark, Luke, and John
    And God keep me again till day.
    I have heard an English verse very like this. It ran thus if I remember right—”Four corners to my bed
    four angels round it spread
    Mathew, Mark, Luke, and John
    bless the bed that I lie on.”

    Douglas Hyde, Abhráin diadha chúige Connacht, Religious Songs of Connacht II,  (London and Dublin, 1906), 216-7.

    Content Copyright © Omnium Sanctorum Hiberniae 2012-2024. All rights reserved.

  • Saint Lapán of Little Island

    My research into the Irish saints for this blog normally involves referencing the historic Irish martyrologies which record their feast days. Yet I am becoming increasingly aware of those saints whose feast days are either entirely unrecorded or are uncertain. An enigmatic holy man from Cork, Lapán of Little Island, might be numbered among them. Little Island is situated in the tidal part of the River Lee, roughly half-way between Cork and Cobh. Lapán (Lappan, Loppán, lat. Lappanus) is a name shared by a number of Irish saints. Pádraig Ó Riain feels that it ‘probably represents a hypocoristic form of Labhraidh, ‘he [who] speaks”.’ Alas, none of them have spoken clearly to us across the centuries. There are three Lapáns commemorated on the Irish martyrologies, on February 11 we find Lapán, son of Ciarán; on March 26 a Lapán without any further identifier; and at November 3  Lapán of Cluian Aithghin, a place which Ó Riain suggests could be Clonatin in Kilmakilloge parish in Wexford.  Curiously, Ó Riain’s Dictionary of Irish Saints makes no mention of the Lapán found on March 26, but Evelyn Bolster, author of a diocesan history of Cork identifies Saint Lapán of Little Island with the saint commemorated on that day. In a footnote to the union of parishes called Glounthane, she writes:

    GLOUTHANE is a union embracing the ancient parishes of Caherlag, Little Island* Ballydeloher, Killaspugmullane and Kilquane…..

    *Little Island, so called in contradistinction to the Great Island or the Cobh of Cork. Names by which Little Island has appeared in the various records are: Cellescop Lappan (from Saint Lappan whose feast occurs on 26 March); De Insula; Ecclesia Sancta Lappani de Insula Parva; Ecclesia Sancta Lappani de Inysmemele; Sancta Lappani de insula parve als inish vic Neyl. Mac Neill was a chieftain of the Uí Tassaigh who inhabited this district.

    E. Bolster, A History of the Diocese of Cork: From the Earliest Times to the Reformation (Irish University Press, 1972), p.282.

    I only wish the author had given the grounds on which this identification was made, as the martyrologies do not make reference to the location or to any other identifiers of the saint commemorated on this day. The Martyrology of Tallaght simply lists the name of Lapán on March 26, whilst his name is not found among the entries for the day in the Martyrology of Oengus. Turning to the later calendars of the saints, the twelfth-century Martyrology of Gorman records ‘very holy Loppán’ and the seventeenth-century Martyrology of Donegal notes Lappan as the final name in the list of saints commemorated, again without reference to a place or other information which may have helped us to identify this saint with the bishop of Little Island.

    Earlier diocesan historian, Canon Patrick Power, writing on the parish of Little Island in a 1921 paper noted:

    Three Lappans are enumerated in the Irish Martyrologies, but which, if any, of these is our Lappan of the Island we have nothing to indicate.

    Rev. P. Power,  Place-Names and Antiquities of S.E. County Cork. Barony of Barrymore. Part III. Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy. Section C: Archaeology, Celtic Studies, History, Linguistics, Literature, 36, (1921) 164–205 at p. 184.

    Canon O’Hanlon, in Volume III of his Lives of the Irish Saints also did not make a link between the Saint Lapán of March 26 and the Cork Bishop of Little Island:

    ARTICLE V.—St. LAPPAN, OR LAPPANUS.

    A record is found, in the Martyrology of Tallagh, at the 26th of March, regarding a St. Lappan. The Bollandists notice him, at the same date, as Lappanus. Again, Lappan is set down, in the Martyrology of Donegal, as having a festival, at this date, but without any relation to a locality.

    It seems, therefore, that Saint Lapán is one of many Irish saints whose memory lives on in the place name of his church, but about whom no historical information has survived. There seems to be nothing in the calendar entries to confirm Bolster’s contention that the saint commemorated on March 26 is Lapán of Little Island and her footnote is the only source I have been able to find for this claim. If anyone knows of any further sources I would be most interested to hear of them.

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