Handsome Brian O'Gallagher, you took my heart away When you set your foot upon the ship and sailed that bitter day, And in my dreams, both noon and night, I'm sighing o'er and o'er…
Ethna Carbery was the pen name used by a 19th century Irish poet and journalist whose short life was ended by illness at the age of 35. Some of her work was set to music by the likes of Ivor Gurney and she collaborated on the production of two Irish Nationalist magazines with her friend Alice Milligan. She was born Anna Johnston on the 3rd December 1866 in Ballymena, County Antrim. He father was a timber merchant by trade but also a prominent Irish Republican in the Fenian movement. She was writing verse from a very young age and had her first piece published at the age of fifteen. She went on to have a number of other pieces of work published in periodicals such as the Nation, Catholic Fireside and United Ireland. The Irish Nationalist cause was very close to her heart and she lectured up and down the country on the subject, along with Alice Milligan and Maud Gonne, the latter being the leader of a revolutionary women’s organisation called Inghinidhe na hÉireann, which translates as “Daughters of Ireland”. With Milligan’s help, she wrote plays to promote the organisation’s cultural activities. The pair were also responsible for The Northern Patriot and The Shan Van Vocht, both well-read nationalist publications which attracted contributions from the likes of Nora Hopper and Katherine Tynan. The latter title has been acknowledged as a major contributory factor to the “Irish Revival” in cultural activities. Alice only started using the pen name Ethna Carbery in 1901 when she married fellow writer and folklorist Séamus MacManus. She explained that she did not wish to write using her now married name as she wanted to avoid being confused with him. Tragically the marriage only lasted a year as Alice fell ill with gastritis and died. Séamus lived for a further 58 years and never re-married. The impact on his life of his wife was so great, and he wrote a memoir in her honour. He published the work of Ethna Carbery in The Four Winds of Erin after her death and this collection was extremely popular. She was, without doubt, loved throughout her native land and much further afield. Two examples of how she was perceived are here. A poor woman in Donegal was reported as saying: The fame of Ethna Carbery spread across the Atlantic and an American woman, who found herself in possession of an article once owned by Ethna, said: As well as being a prominent and fervent supporter of and writer about Irish Republicanism, she wrote poetry as if her mind was: One of her most poignant poems is reproduced here. My Dearest appears to show Ethna searching deep into her own soul for inspiration: Ethna Carbery was a deeply patriotic individual whose love for all those who had contributed to, and died for, her country was an almost all-consuming passion and this fervour was to be found in much of her work. She wrote fluently, easily and with infectious enthusiasm. Her body of work would, no doubt have been greatly enhanced had she lived a longer life. Ethna Carbery died on the 21st April 1902 at the tragically young age of 35.
Ethna Carbery şiirleri
In Tír-na'n-Og, In Tír-na'n-Og, The sagans sway this way and that; the twisted fern uncloses, The quicken-berry hides its red above the tender roses,…
Mary of Carrick has gone away From our pleasant places, down to the sea, She has put a loss on our mountain gray, She has drained the joy from the heart o' me,…
A Sword of Light hath pierced the dark, our eyes have seen the Star: Oh Eire, leave the ways of sleep now days of promise are: The rusty spears upon your walls are stirring to and…
Oh, who is she, and what is she? A beauty born eternally Of shimmering moonshine, sunset flame, And rose-red heart of dawn;…
O, Páistín Fionn, but it vexed her sore, The day you turned from your mother's door For the wide gray sea, and the strife and din That lie beyond, where the ships go in.…
SHIELA NÍ GARA, it is lonesome where you bide, With the plover circling over and the sagans spreading wide, With an empty sea before you, and behind a wailing world, Where the swor…
There's a sweet sleep for my love by yon glimmering blue wave, But alas! it is a cold sleep in a green-happed narrow grave. O shadowy Finn, move slowly, Break not her peace so holy…
Blow softly down the valley, O wind, and stir the fern That waves its green fronds over The King of Ireland's Cairn.…
I met the Love-Talker one eve in the glen, He was handsomer than any of our handsome young men, His eyes were blacker than the sloe, his voice sweeter far Than the crooning of old…
To the Isle of Peace I turn our prow: No angry seas Shall fright you now;…
Beyond the four seas of Eire, beyond the sunset's rim, It lies half-forgot, in a valley deep and dim; Like a star of fire from the skies' gold tire, And whoso drinks the nine drops…
A health to you, Piper, And your pipes silver-tongued, clear and sweet in their crooning! Full of the music they gathered at morn…