A St. Patrick's Day story from the land of magic

It’s that special time of year, the day that we Irish come out to celebrate and everyone who isn’t lucky enough to be Irish pretends to be for the day.

Yes, Sunday is March 17, St. Patrick’s Day. We all know the story of Patrick and how he converted the Irish Celts to Christianity. The popular story goes that he chased all the snakes out of Ireland, but seeing as how there never were any snakes on the island, one has to conclude that the snakes are a reference to the Druids, who revered snakes.

Snakes adorned the staffs, and if one looks closely and uses their imagination a bit, one can see snakes hiding in the Celtic Crosses and bits of jewelry still. The Irish may have become subjects of Rome, but the Druids got the last laugh.

Ireland has always been a place of magic. Long before the Druids, the Tuatha De Danaan reigned. This is the story of the Children of Lir, one of the more famous legends to come out of Ireland. I chose this particular story because it happened in the area that is now known as County Westmeath, and that’s where my particular sept of O’Flanagans was established. I’ve always wondered if perhaps one of my ancestors knew the children of legend.

Long ago in Ireland, after the Fomorians had been defeated and Lugh (loo) of the Long Arm stepped down from the throne of Tara, Bodb Dearg (bov jar-ag) or Bov the Red, was elected to replace him. This turn of events greatly displeased Lir, father of Mannonon, and he withdrew to his shide (shee), refusing to acknowledge Bov’s rule.

To seal the breach in the kingdom of the Tuatha De Danaan (too-ha day dan-an), Bov offered his daughter, Eve, in marriage to Lir. The two fell deeply in love, were wed, and were quickly blessed with children.

Eve first bore a daughter, Fionnuala (fin-noo-la), then a son, Aed (ay: rhymes with day), and finally twin boys, Fiacra (fee-ak-ra) and Conn (kon). The children were the joy of their lives, but sadly that joy was cut short when Eve died suddenly.
Stricken with grief, Lir withdrew again into his fortress. Still a young man, Bov urged Lir to marry again and to maintain their friendship, he offered his foster daughter, Aoife (eef-eh), to be Lir’s bride.

For a time they were happy, but Lir doted on his children from his first marriage. He frequently would fall asleep in their room so that they were the last thing he saw at night and the first thing he saw when he woke up. He made it clear to Aoife that he had no desire to have any more children.

As time went on, Aoife felt put upon and neglected, and eventually her sadness turned to jealousy and rage. She tried to talk her most trusted servant into murdering the children, but he refused and so she devised to use magic to end her misery.

On their way to Bov’s, she stopped the party of travelers and ordered the children to bathe the dirt from themselves in the lake. While they were in the water, she chanted a spell and turned them all into swans. Naturally the children were horrified. In a slight change of heart, Aoife allowed them to retain their human voices, but the children had to remain Swans for 900 years, until the bell of a new religion rang over the land. They had to stay on the water, never to touch land.
Bov and Lir were more than disgusted when Aoife admitted to what she had done, and Bov in a fit of anger turned Aoife into a part of the North wind, to forever fly about the land in permanent cold.

For 300 years the children swam about in Lough Derravaragh (the lake in County Westmeath) and then it was time to fly to the waters of the Sea of Moyle (between Ireland and Scotland) and spent another 300 years on the Atlantic Ocean in the west.

While staying in the west, the children made a small lake their home, and it became known as Inish Gloria, or the Lake of the Birds.

As the 900-year exile was coming to end, a holy man moved to the Lake of the Birds. He had wanted to be close to the legendary swans, and so he built his chapel on the shore of the lake. One day he rang his bell in preparation for this prayer, and the swans heard it and came to the chapel. They explained to the man who they were and he explained to them that everything they’d known before was now gone and that a new religion had come to Ireland and that they could stay with him and learn and be saved. They did, and the children learned the new ways, singing with the holy man.

In return, the holy man kept them safe for the remainder of their sentence and had a silver chain made that he attached to all four so that they would all stay together.

As time went on, word got out that the holy man was keeping the beautiful swans with the human voices, and one day a king showed up, wanting the birds for his wife. The holy man refused, and the king tried to steal the swans.

He grabbed the silver chain and dragged them to his boat, but before they got to the boat, the swans transformed into three old men and an old crone. The king was horrified and couldn’t get his boat off shore soon enough.

Legend has it that the king had a change of heart and became a much better ruler after, but it was too late for the swans. They were more than 900 years old and turning to dust quickly.

The children had one last request of their friend: to be buried on the land where they had found so much comfort, together, standing as was the custom of their people. The holy man did as they asked, binding the four together with the silver chain so that they would stay together forever.

Like all Irish legends, the Children of Lir was quite long. I shortened it considerably in order for it to fit. That, and I’m not much on typing for days! Anyone wanting to learn more need only type Children of Lir into their search engine, or even just type in Irish Myths.

I used the account of the story that was published by Amergin Press in 2000 for my “reference.” There are others out there.

I hope that you enjoyed the foray into Irish legends, and I hope that all have a safe and enjoyable St. Paddy’s Day.
Slainte!

Norah O’Flanagan writes a weekly column for the Evening Tribune of Hornell, N.Y.