Donegal Folk Tales

by Joe Brennan

Overview

Donegal has a rich heritage of myths and legends which is uniquely captured in this collection of traditional tales from the county. Discover the trails where Balor of the Evil Eye once roamed, the footprint left by St Colmcille when he leapt to avoid a demon and the places where ordinary people once encountered devils, ghosts, and fairies. In a vivid journey through Donegal's varied landscape, from its spectacular rugged coast line to the majestic mountains of Errigal and Muckish, and on to the rich farmland of the east, local storyteller Joe Brennan takes the reader to places where legend and landscape are inseparably linked.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780752491936
Publisher:	The History Press
Publication date:	03/13/2013
Series:	Folk Tales: United Kingdom
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	192
File size:	816 KB

About the Author

Joe Brennan is a professional storyteller with an international reputation who has been telling traditional tales from Ireland for the last twelve years.

Read an Excerpt

Donegal Folk Tales

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By Joe Brennan

The History Press

Copyright © 2013 Joe Brennan
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-7524-9193-6

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CHAPTER 1

Balor of the Evil Eye

In the days of yore, a time far back out of the reach of chronology, there flourished three brothers, Gavida, MacSamhthainn and MacKineely, who lived in Tír Chonaill – the county we now know as Donegal – on lands looking over the fierce Atlantic. The first of the three, Gavida, was a distinguished smith who held his forge at Drumnatinné, in the parish of Rath-Finan. (The name was a reference to Gavida's forge as Druim na Teine translates from the Irish as 'ridge of fire'.)

MacKineely was the lord of the district, comprising the parishes of Rath-Finan and Tullaghobegley. He possessed a cow by the name of Glas Gavlin that was said to be so lactiferous that she was coveted by all his neighbours and many attempts were made to steal her. As a consequence MacKineely found it necessary to watch her constantly and keep her at his side at all times.

At this same remote period there was an island called Tory lying in the ocean opposite Drumnatinné, the home of the smith Gavida. Tory received its name from presenting a towering appearance from the continent of Tír Chonaill, and from the many prominent rocks towering into the heavens which are called tors. Here flourished a famous warrior called Balor, whose very name struck terror in the heart of the hearer. He was a giant of a man who had one eye possessed of a terrible power.

The eye was a deadly weapon that had a foul and distorted glance and was kept covered at all times. When the lid was lifted it would emit its terrible beams and dyes of venom, like that of the Basilisk, and would strike any living creature dead. Legend had it that when Balor was young he was passing a house when he was attracted by the sound of chanting. Despite knowing that this was a forbidden place, as the magicians gathered there to work new spells, his curiosity got the better of him. He climbed up to a window high in the wall. At first he could see nothing but as his eye adjusted he saw the room was full of fumes and gases. As he poked his head further into the gloom the chanting grew louder and a strong plume of smoke hit Balor in the face. He was blinded by the poisonous fumes and could not open this one eye. He dropped to the ground where he writhed in pain. Before he could escape one of the magicians came out of the house.

The druid ran to Balor and realised what had happened. He was surprised that he wasn't dead. 'That was the spell of death and the fumes have brought the power of death to your eye,' the Druid said. 'If you look on anyone with that eye they will be petrified.' And that was how he got his terrible power and his name.

When among his own people the eye remained shut. But he would turn its deadly power on his enemies and they would drop dead. As he grew old it is said that the eyelid grew so heavy that he could not open it himself but needed help. An ivory ring was driven through the eyelid and ropes were attached to the ring to pull the eyelid open. It took ten men to lift it and release its murderous venom but in the process ten times that number were slain in a single glance. Hence to this day people call an evil, or overlooking eye, by the name of Suil Bhaloir – Balor's eye.

Despite this terrible power of self-defence it had been revealed to a Druid that Balor would be killed by his O, or grandson. Balor had only one child, a daughter, named Eithne, and he recognised that his destruction could only be brought about through her. So he shut her up in an impregnable tower, which he himself, or some of his ancestors, had built some time before. The tower was on the summit of Tormór, a lofty and almost inaccessible rock shooting into the blue sky, breaking the roaring waves and confronting the storms at the eastern extremity of the island.

Along with his daughter he imprisoned twelve matrons to take care of her. 'You must never allow any man near her or even give her any idea of the existence or nature of that sex,' he commanded.

The fair Eithne was imprisoned within the walls of that tower for many years and knew nothing else of the world except for the glimpses she caught through the window at the top of the tower of passing clouds and birds, and waves rolling on the sea pounding the cliffs below. The matrons tended to Eithne, making her life as comfortable as possible and tradition has it that she blossomed into great beauty. The matrons were ever on their guard not to mention the word 'man' or let slip any remote reference to that sex, for while they did not understand, or indeed agree with, the nature of Balor's command they followed it to the letter for fear of his wrath.

Despite all these precautions Eithne would still question the women about the manner in which she was brought into existence and of the nature of the beings that she occasionally glimpsed passing up and down the sea in currachs. She often related too her dreams of other beings, other places and other enjoyments which sported in her imagination. But the matrons stayed faithful to their trust and never offered a single word of explanation of the mysteries that enchanted her imagination.

In the meantime Balor, feeling secure in his existence regardless of the prediction of the Druid, continued his business of war and plunder. He performed many a deed of fame, captured many a vessel, subdued and cast in chains many an adventurous band of sea rovers and made many a descent upon the opposite continent, carrying with him to the island men and property. But despite all his victories his ambitions could not be satisfied until he should get possession of that most valuable cow, the Glas Gavlin. Therefore he directed all his powers of strength and stratagem towards this goal.

One day MacKineely, the chief of the land opposite Tory, and the owner of that prized cow Glas Gavlin, went to visit his brother's forge at Drumnatinné to have some swords made. He led the cow by the halter which he constantly held in his own hand by day and by which she was tied at night to keep her from scheming hands. When he arrived at the forge he entrusted her to the care of his other brother MacSamhthainn who was also there on business connected with war. 'Keep your hand fast on that halter for you know how precious she is to me and how many would love to take her away,' he said, 'while I go within to watch the shaping and steeling of my sword.'

'Do you take me for a fool brother?' he asked. 'I will protect her like my own.'

MacSamhthainn lay back against a tree enjoying the sun high in the sky while he was cooled by a breeze wafting off the sea. Balor, who was ever watchful of a chance to steal away the cow, saw an opportunity to fulfil his desire. He turned himself into a red-headed boy and made his way innocently to where MacSamhthainn lay resting with a firm grip on the cow.

'Are you getting a sword made too?' he asked.

'I am,' said MacSamhthainn, 'in my turn. When MacKineely comes out to guard the cow I'll go into Gavida and get my sword forged in steel.'

'That's what you think,' said the red-haired boy. 'I heard them talking in there at the furnace and they are using all your steel for their own swords to make heavier weapons and you'll have none.'

Of course that did the trick. MacSamhthainn jumped to his feet in rage and stuffed the halter into the red-haired boy's hands.

'Take hold of this my red-headed friend and you'll see how soon I'll change their minds.'

As soon as he turned his back, Balor turned himself into his own hideous self and, dragging the prized cow by the tail, hurried to the strand and into the sea, taking his ill-gotten gain safely back to his island fortress. The place where he dragged the cow into the sea became known as Port na Glaise or Harbour of the Glas or green cow to commemorate the deeds of that day.

When MacKineely's brother entered the forge ranting and raving he knew immediately that MacSamhthainn had been tricked. He raced outside to witness Balor dragging the Glas Gavlin behind him across the sea with great speed through the water. Within the shortest of times he watched the cow and man fade into a mere speck across the Sound of Tory.

It was MacKineely's turn to be angry now and he turned his rage on his brother. 'How could you be so stupid as to be tricked so easily?' he ranted. 'I gave her into your trust because I thought you had the sense to see such scantily concealed trickery.'

MacSamhthainn realised the error he had made and suffered a few boxes on the head from his brother without complaint, which probably helped avoid a major falling out among the brothers.

MacKineely wandered about for several hours distracted by his passions, and was not to be consoled in any way for his loss. But rant and rave as he might, the fact was that the cow was gone and it was a terrible blow. Eventually the brothers were able to persuade him to consider what could be done to recover the Glas. With his passions vented he went to see a Druid who lived in the area. 'You'll never recover the cow as long as Balor is living, for he will be ready with his deadly Basilisk eye and will petrify any man that should venture near her,' said the Druid.

MacKineely wasn't to be thwarted in his efforts to recover his cow so he went to Biroge of the Mountain, a Leanan-sidhe, who undertook to aid him in bringing about Balor's destruction.

She dressed him in the clothes of the women of the age and Biroge called up a powerful wind and wafted them both on the wings of the storm across the Sound of Tory to Tormor where Eithne was imprisoned. She knocked loudly on the door and demanded admittance.

'Help us! Please help us! My companion is a noble lady whom I've rescued from the cruel hands of a tyrant who had attempted to carry her off by force from the protection of her people,' said Biroge.

Despite Balor's wish not to admit strangers, the matrons did not want to refuse to help another woman in distress. They also sensed the great power in the hands of Biroge. They let her and her companion in.

As soon as they were inside the tower Biroge cast another spell and put all the matrons to sleep. MacKineely cast aside his woman's clothes and made his way to the top of the tower to find Eithne. He found her staring out at the stars with a sadness cast about her. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. When she turned she beheld a figure that was familiar to her from her dreams and thought about in her imaginings all day long, a face that she loved dearly.

Declaring their love for each other they embraced with delight. They lay down together that night and when Biroge wafted MacKineely on an enchanted wind the next morning to Drumnatinné, Eithne was with child, the grandson of Balor.

Eithne was devastated the next day when MacKineely was gone and her grief wasn't helped by the fact that the maidens tried to convince her that all that had happened that night was a dream. Despite this fact they told her to mention nothing of it to Balor.

And so things continued until the day that Eithne gave birth to three sons. When Balor learned of the birth he was furious and filled with dread as he recalled the Druid's prophesy. He ordered that the three boys be taken from their mother and drowned.

Despite Eithne's pleadings, the three baby boys were snatched from her. They were wrapped in a sheet that was secured with a 'delg' or pin. Balor had ordered that they be cast into a certain whirlpool. As the bundle was been transported across the harbour to this deadly pool the delg fell out of the sheet and one of the babies fell into the water and disappeared beneath the waves. The other two were secured and cast into the intended pool as ordered by Balor. The harbour to this day is called Port-a-deilg or Harbour of the Pin.

Balor was delighted to hear that the children had drowned and the prediction of the Druid thwarted. But unknown to all, Biroge had been riding the winds that night and had seen the boy fall from the sheet. Instead of sinking to the bottom of the harbour, as was reported to Balor, the boy, the first born, was wafted secretly by Biroge across the Sound to the mainland. She brought the boy to her father, MacKineely, who sent him to be fostered by his brother Gavida, the great smith.

Balor quickly learned from his Druid that MacKineely was the man who had made the great effort to set the wheel of his destiny in motion. Balor made his way across the Sound, landing on that part of the continent called (from some more modern occupier) Ballyconnell with a band of his fierce associates. They seized upon MacKineely, dragged him to a large white rock and laid his head upon it. One of the band held his head there by the long hair while others held his hands and legs. Balor raised his ponderous sword high above MacKineely's neck and brought it down with a fearsome force that cut his head clean off with one blow. The blood flowed around him in warm floods and even penetrated the stone to its centre. The stone with its red veins still attests to the story and gives its name to the location of this deadly affair, Clogh-an-Neely*.

The boy was brought up in his uncle Gavida's trade which then ranked among the learned professions, and was deemed of so much importance that Brigit, the goddess of the poets, thought it not beneath her dignity to preside over the smith's also. The boy prospered at his uncle's side, growing to become an accomplished smith and gathering much wisdom from the furnace side. The great and good came from wide and far to engage his uncle and, as he worked diligently at the fire, the boy listened carefully to all that was discussed.

It was often he heard of the deeds of Balor who, believing he had baffled the fates by drowning the three baby boys, ventured forth onto the mainland carrying on his misdeeds without fear of opposition. Indeed he even employed Gavida to make all his weapons. He was unaware that the boy at the fire was MacKineely's heir, his own grandson, who had in him the power to slay Balor. He watched the lad grow into a fine strong young man and an excellent smith. Indeed Balor became greatly attached to him, ignorant of his power to have the will of the fates executed.

Now the son of MacKineely was well aware of the fate of his father at the hand of Balor and was acquainted with the story of his own birth and escape from destruction. He was often observed indulging in gloomy fits of despondency, frequently visiting the blood-stained stone, to return from it with a furrowed brow which nothing could smooth.

One day Balor came to the forge when Gavida was away on some private business so all the work on that day was to be executed by his young foster-son. In the course of the day Balor happened to mention with great pride his conquest of MacKineely. The furrows on the boy's brow deepened as Balor continued to boast about his killing and looting. Suddenly the boy grabbed a glowing rod from the furnace and thrust it through the basilisk eye of Balor and out through the other side of his head. In one swoop he had avenged his father, slain his grandfather and executed the decree of fate, which nothing could avert.

Some accounts claim that this took place at Knocknafola or Bloddyforeland but others, who place the death of Balor at Drumnatinné, account for the name Knocknafola by making it the scene of a bloody battle between the Irish and the Danes. However, tradition errs as to the place of Balor's death, for it is recorded in the Mythological Cycle that he was killed by his grandson Lugh in the great battle of Moytura when the Tuatha de Danann defeated the Formorians, of whom Balor was a king. Lugh then became High King of Ireland.

In 1794 the blood-stained stone was raised onto a pillar by Wyby More Olpherts, Esq. and his wife, who had collected all the traditions connected with Balor. Olpherts has committed to the durability of marble the name Clogh-an-Neely, but the Four Masters write it more correctly at the years 1284, 1554.

CHAPTER 2

St Patrick in Donegal

Many of the High Kings of Ireland came from Tír Chonaill (Conal's country, Donegal today). One such man was King Laoghaire, who ruled at Tara when St Patrick brought his message of Christianity there. Now Laoghaire had three brothers living in the north-west of Ireland, one of whom was named Conal. When on Easter morning Patrick preached and converted many at Tara, Conal was there to hear him. So impressed by him was Conal that he extracted a promise from the saint to visit Tír Chonaill and to share his message with the people there.

Conal returned home and told all about this great man and said he could come to visit in the coming months. However, the months slipped into years and people paid little attention to Conal when he regaled on the subject of Patrick. It took several years before the promise was kept by St Patrick.

St Patrick was in County Leitrim where he had gone to raise to the ground Crom Cruaidh and his kin on Magh Sleachta, the Plain of Adoration. But the pagans in the area took a dim view of this treatment of their pagan idols. They stole Patrick's goat and then chased him out of the county to the River Drowes that bordered with Tír Chonaill. With nowhere to cross, St Patrick put his faith in the Lord and stepped into the river. To the amazement of his pursuers, the salmon of the river swam tight together and brought Patrick safely to the far bank. St Patrick blessed the River Drowes so that it would never want for a salmon either in summer or winter.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Donegal Folk Tales by Joe Brennan. Copyright © 2013 Joe Brennan. Excerpted by permission of The History Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents

Contents

Title,
Dedication,
Acknowledgements,
1 Balor of the Evil Eye,
2 St Patrick in Donegal,
3 The Birth of St Colmcille,
4 The Origins of the River Lennon,
5 Rats on Tory,
6 The Silkie Seal,
7 The Legend of Raithlin O'Byrne,
8 Arranmore Seal Story,
9 The Eagle's Nest,
10 The Glenties Midwife,
11 Fear Darrig in Donegal,
12 Changeling,
13 Fairy Wandering,
14 Jamie Friel,
15 The Outsmarting of Conal Doherty,
16 The Drowning Wave,
17 Paddy the Piper,
18 The Bee, the Harp, the Mouse and the Bum-Clock,
19 Ghost Lights in Ramelton,
20 The Strange Mass,
21 The Old Hag of the Forest,
22 Stumpy's Brae,
23 Grace Connor – A Ghost Story,
24 The Spirits of Greencastle,
25 The Piper's Tune,
26 The Widow's Daughter,
27 Croidhe na Féile,
28 A Queer Story,
29 Witch Hare,
30 Salty Butter,
31 Falling Out,
32 The Ghost Ship,
Copyright,