Corpus of Electronic Texts Edition
Buile Suibhne (Author: [unknown])

paragraph 19


    1. A year to last night
      have I been among the gloom of branches,
      between flood and ebb,
      without covering around me.
    2. Without a pillow beneath my head,
      among the fair children of men;
      there is peril to us, O God,
      without sword, without spear.
    3. Without the company of women;
      save brooklime of warrior-bands—
      a pure fresh meal—
      watercress is our desire.
    4. Without a foray with a king,
      I am alone in my home,
      without glorious reavings,
      without friends, without music.
    5. Without sleep, alas!
      let the truth be told,
      without aid for a long time,
      hard is my lot.

    6. p.27

    7. Without a house right full,
      without the converse of generous men,
      without the title of king,
      without drink, without food.
    8. Alas that I have been parted here
      from my mighty, armed host,
      a bitter madman in the glen,
      bereft of sense and reason.
    9. Without being on a kingly circuit,
      but rushing along every path;
      that is the great madness,
      King of Heaven of saints.
    10. Without accomplished musicians,
      without the converse of women,
      without bestowing treasures;
      it has caused my death, O revered Christ.
    11. Though I be as I am to-night,
      there was a time
      when my strength was not feeble
      over a land that was not bad.
    12. On splendid steeds,
      in life without sorrow,
      in my auspicious kingship
      I was a good, great king.
    13. After that, to be as I am
      through selling Thee, O revered Christ!
      a poor wretch am I, without power,
      in the Glen of bright Bolcan.

    14. p.29

    15. The hawthorn that is not soft-topped
      has subdued me, has pierced me;
      the brown thorn-bush
      has nigh caused my death.
    16. The battle of Congal with fame,
      to us it was doubly piteous;
      on Tuesday was the rout;
      more numerous were our dead than our living.
    17. A-wandering in truth,
      though I was noble and gentle,
      I have been sad and wretched
      a year to last night.