The 9^th of September is Saint Ciaran’s Day and I enjoyed reading the poem The Dead of Clonmacnois recently. Remember how it goes?

The Dead at Clonmacnois

In a quiet watered land, a land of roses,

Stands Saint Ciaran’s city fair,

And the warriors of Erin in their famous generations

Slumber there.

There beneath the dewy hillside sleep the noblest

Of the clan of Conn,

Each below his stone with name in branching Ogham

And the sacred knot thereon.

There they laid the seven kings of Tara,

There the sons of Cairbre sleep,

Battle-banners of the Gael that in Ciaran’s plain

Of crosses

Now their final hosting keep.

And at Clonmacnois they laid the men of Teffia,

And right many a lord of Breagh:

Deep the sod above Clan Creide and Clan Conaill

Kind in hall and fierce in fray.

Many and many a son of Conn the Hundred-fighter

In the red earth lies at rest:

Many a blue eye of Clan Colman the turf covers

Many a swan-white breast.

-Angus O’Gillan, translated by T.W.Rolleston