Counr. MacDonoghs Lamentation
(Text: Torlach Óg)

Torlach Óg

Táim dubhcroidheach go leor ‘s níl súgaigh an mo glóir,‘S níl sians ann mo gháire do bhás, ‘Thorlaigh Óig;Ardfhlaith na seod a bhfuair sárchlúth ans gach ród,Is ó chuala do thásgsa níl sgáile dhíom beo.

A chrann seasta gach cúigechuiread spraic ar gach cúirt,Cuireadh gach action a bhfuil meangach ar gcúl, ma fheas don righ úr teastas do chliú,Bheadh go brughaighte tinn deacrach do d’easbhuidh fui smúid.‘S ‘b féile le do dháimh a roibh a nÉirinn le faghail,D’fuashgoileadh lucht ngeimhin ón mbeinse gan cháin.‘S é mo eagnach gach gur éag go bráthGo bfeicfeá lucht Béarla fui ghéar-smacht a láimh‘S é do shaoghalsa nach buan d’fág a’ siansa fui ghruaim,Chuir sgabadh a ndaoine is na gCraobhaibh bu dual.A Thiarna, ‘truagh liacht dileachtanguaisÓ theastaidh uain an fíorflaith síntemBaile an Dúin.

Tighearna Mhuigh Ó ‘s gach tiarna faoi brón, Tiarna Loch Glinne a’ sileadh na ndeor;Och, an sgéal mór do Éirin ‘s gach ród,Do bhéal frasach cuanna, ‘bheith dúnta fui fód.

  • QUB Bunting MS 7/3 (Suggested in Nicholas Carolan, 2010, p.89)
  • Young Turlough.

    I am sorrowful enough and there is no cheer in my voice, And there is no mirth in my laugh because of your death, Young Turlough; The high prince of jewels who received great honour in every quarter, And since I heard the tidings about you not a shadow of me lives. O support of every province who used control every court, Who used frustrate every deceitful action, If the new king but had the knowledge of your fame, He would be crushed, sick, sorry, and in gloom for your loss. You were the most generous with your company of all there were to be found in Ireland, You used release prisoners from the judge’s bench without a fine. It is my grief every day that you ever died Before you saw the speakers of English under the severe rule of his arm. That your life has not been lasting has left merriment in gloom, Has put sadness on the people native to Creevagh. O Lord! It is pitiful that so many orphans are in danger Since we are without that true prince who is stretched in Ballindoon. Lord Mayo and every other lord is in sorrow, The Lord of Lough Glynn is weeping down tears; Alas! The great story for Ireland in every quarter Is, that your eloquent noble mouth is closed under the sod.

    (Translation from Nicholas Carolan, 2010, pp.89-90)