Transcript

Bhain Donn Ó Dubhaigh an srian den ghearrán agus shiúil sé caol díreach a fhad le níon an rí. Labhair sé léithe ins na briathra a chantaí san am sin agus labhair sí leis ins na briathra céanna. D'fhiafraigh sé daoithe go múinte modhúil macánta an ligfeadh sí cead dó néal a chodladh ina hucht. Agus dúirt sí go ligfeadh agus míle fáilte, ach go rabh eagla uirthi go muirfeadh[1] an fathach é, (ag) toiseacht agus ag inse dó mar a d'ins[2] mise daoibhse.

"Má thig an fathach nuair a bheas mise i mo chodladh," ar seisean, "craith an srian agus muscalfaidh an srian mise."

Leag sé a cheann ina hucht agus thuit sé ina chodladh. Agus chuir sise a lámh ina póca agus tharraing sí amach siosúr. Agus ghearr sí dlaoi dena chuid gruaige as cúl a chinn. Chuir isteach i bpáipéar í, chorn an páipéar, agus chuir an páipéar ina póca go cúramach. Níl ann ach go rabh sin déanta aici nuair a tchí sí long lúthmhar ghasta ag tarraingt uirthi fána cuid seoltaí móra geala tógtha go barr na gcrann, (ag) treabhadh na farraige agus ag caitheamh cúir ar 'ach taobh daoithe, fathach mór ina shuí ina deireadh agus bradáin fíoruisce anois ar bharr a shlaite agus eascainn nimhe i mbarriallacha a bhróga. I bhfaiteadh na súl bhí sé astoigh ag béal na trá. Agus chuir sé bos faoi dheireadh an tsoithigh agus bos faoina toiseach agus d'fhág sé tirim glan ina suí thuas ar an fhéar í.

"Dúshlán aon fhear ar an domhan," ar seisean, "an soitheach a chur amach go gcuirfidh mise amach ar aist[3] í."

Agus leis sin chraith níon an rí an srian agus mhuscail Donn Ó Dubhaigh. D'éirigh sé a léim ina sheasamh agus d'amharc sé go fiata feargach ar an fhathach agus chuaigh in araicis. Casadh an dís ar a chéile i lár na trá.

Agus arsa an fathach, "Sin agus marbhfáisc ort, a Dhoinn Uí Dhubhaigh ghránna, mhac Ghruagaigh an Ghaiste as Éirinn. Nach mór an croí a fuair tú theacht a dh'éileamh mo cheart féin ormsa. Is mór liom i ngreim thú agus is beag liom i ndhá ghreim thú. Agus níl a fhios a'm goidé a dhéanfaidh mé leat mura gcaithe[4] mé in airde sa spéir thú agus do mhuineál a bhriseadh ag teacht anuas duid."

"Giorra shaoil chugad, a bheathaigh shalaigh," arsa Donn Ó Dubhaigh. "Nach (f)á choinne cóir agus ceart a bhaint as do cheann mór míofar a thug mise an bealach seo."

"Cé acu is fearr leat, sinn a ghoil a sháitheadh sceana[5] fada glasa in easnacha a chéile ná greimeannaí caola cruaidhe coraíocht?" arsa an fathach.

"Is fearr liom greimeannaí caola cruaidhe coraíocht," arsa Donn Ó Dubhaigh. "Siad a chleacht mé (i) mbaile bheag agus i mbaile mhór, (i) gcúirt m'athara agus mo mháthara agus siad a bheas agam anseo anocht."

Tráth chomhrac an dís choscair siad a chéile aníos agus síos, anuas agus suas, aniar agus siar, anoir[6] agus soir[7], go dtear'[8] siad creagán den bhogán agus bogán den chreagán, tobar glan fíoruisce i lár na gcloch glas. 'Á dtaradh[9] éan beag ó íochtar an domhain go huachtar an domhain gur a dh'amharc, a dh'aor agus a dhéanamh iontais de Dhonn Ó Dhubhaigh is don fhathach mhór a thiocfadh sé. Agus fá dheireadh, nuair a bhí an neoin bheag agus deireadh an lae ann, driúcht a mhéadú agus clocha ag géarú agus éanacha beaga na coilleadh craobhaí ag goil fá bhun dídin' agus foscaidh, thóg Donn Ó Dubhaigh a mhisneach (i mbeannán) a chléibh. Agus an chéad fháscadh a thug sé don fhathach chuir sé go dtína dhá ghlúin sa talamh é. An dara fáscadh go dtína bhásta agus an tríthú[10] fáscadh go húll na scornaí.

"Fód glas os do chionn ansin, a bheathaigh shalaigh," ar seisean.

Chuir sé a lámh síos go dtí an truaill a bhí crochta ar a thaobh agus tharraing sé aníos a chlaidhmhe cosanta.

Agus, "Fóill, fóill," arsa an fathach, "(a) ghaiscígh ab fhearr a bhí ar an domhan agus ná bain an ceann daom agus bhéarfaidh mé féirín duid is fearr ná mo cheann."

"Goidé an féirín é?", arsa Donn.

"Bhéarfaidh mé mo chlaidhmhe solais duid nár fhág fuíoll ariamh ar a bhuille agus a bhéarfadh solas don domhan," arsa an fathach.

"Ní hé atá mé a shantú ach do cheann," arsa Donn Ó Dubhaigh.

Tharraing sé an claidhmhe agus bhuail sé i mbaic a mhuineáil é agus steall sé an ceann seacht n-eitir agus seacht n-iomaire den fhathach. Agus chuaigh sé a léim eadar an cholainn agus an ceann agus bhí an lá bainte aige. Chuaigh Donn Ó Dubhaigh a mharcaíocht ar a ghearrán agus thug sé iarraidh ar an bhaile. Agus tháinig mac Rí Faoi Thoinn nuair a fuair sé Donn Ó Dubhaigh ar shiúl agus d'iarr sé... thug sé leis cloigeann an fhathaigh agus thug sé 'uig cúirt an rí é.

Translation

Donn Ó Dubhaigh took the bridle off the horse and he walked straight up to the king's daughter. He spoke to her in the words of that era and she replied in the same words. He asked her politely and gently and honestly if she would let him take a nap in her lap. And she said she would allow him gladly, but that she was afraid the giant would kill him, starting to tell him like I told you.

"If the giant comes when I am asleep," he said, "shake the bridle and the bridle will wake me up."

He laid his head on her lap and he fell asleep. And she put her hand in her pocket and she drew out a scissors. And she cut a lock of his hair from the back of his head. She put it in paper, wrapped up the paper, and put the paper in her pocket carefully. She had only just done that when she saw a swift speedy ship drawing near her under great white sails fully hoisted, ploughing the seas and making foam on both sides, a big giant sitting astern with a freshwater salmon now on his stick and poisonous eels as the laces of his shoes. In the blink of an eye he was at the shore. And he put a hand under the stern of the ship and a hand under the bow and he lifted it clean out onto the grass.

"I challenge any man on earth," he said, "to put the ship out before I do it again myself."

And with that the king's daughter shook the bridle and Donn Ó Dubhaigh woke up. He stood up with a jump and looked fiercely and furiously at the giant and he went towards him. The two met in the middle of the beach.

And the giant said, "Death throes to you on top of all that, horrible Donn Ó Dhubhaigh, son of the Ogre of the Snares from Ireland. How dare you come here and seek what is mine by right. You're too big for one bite and too small for two bites. And I don't know what I'll do with you unless I throw you up in the sky and break your neck on the way down."

"An early death to you, you filthy beast," said Donn Ó Dubhaigh. "I came this way to take justice out of your big ugly head."

"Which do you prefer, that we thrust long sharp knives in each other's ribs or wrestle in tight, hard moves?" said the giant.

"I prefer wrestling in tight, hard moves," said Donn Ó Dubhaigh. "Those are what I practiced in towns big and small, in my father and mother's court and I will have them here tonight."

At the time of battle the two struggled against one another up and down, east and west, until they made hard ground of soft ground and soft ground of hard ground, a well of clean spring water in the middle of grey stones. If a little bird were to come from the depths of the world to the top of the world it would be to see and speak and marvel at Donn Ó Dubhaigh and the big giant. And at last, when dusk came and the end of the day, when dew was getting thicker and stones were becoming sharper and the little birds of the branching woods were taking shelter and refuge, Donn Ó Dubhaigh took courage from within (?). And the first attempt he took at the giant sent him into the earth up to his knees. The second attempt up to his waist and the third attempt up to his Adam's apple.

"A fresh sod over your head there, you filthy beast," he said.

He reached his hand down to the scabbard that hung at his side and he pulled out his sword of defense.

And, "Wait, wait," said the giant, "O greatest warrior who ever lived, and don't behead me and I will give you a gift better than my head."

"What gift is it?", said Donn.

"I'll give you my sword of light whose stroke never failed and that could give light to the whole world," said the giant.

"That is not what I want but rather your head," said Donn Ó Dubhaigh.

He drew the sword and he struck the nape of his neck and he flung the head seven furrows and seven ridges away from the giant's body. And he leaped from the body to the head and he had won the day. Donn Ó Dubhaigh went riding on his horse and he began to head home. And the son of the King under the Waves came when he found Donn Ó Dubhaigh gone and he asked... he took the giant's head with him and brought it to the king's court.

Footnotes

Commentary

Parts 1 and 2 of this story combine to form a fine example of one of the most popular and widespread international folktales, ATU 300 The dragon-slayer. See Hans Jorg Uther, The types of international folktales: a classification and bibliography (3 vols, Helsinki, 2004). The fact that the princess in the tale took a lock of the hero's hair, and that he himself cut the head from the ogre, allude to an episode that is commonly found in this tale type, where an impostor claims he was the one who killed the ogre, but the real hero is identified by the lock of hair, and the fact that he possesses the head of the creature. These are international motifs H83 Rescue tokens and H105.1. Dragon-tongue proof. See Stith Thompson, Motif-index of folk literature (rev. and enlarged ed., 6 vols, Bloomington, Ind., 1955-8). The story is extraordinarily popular in Ireland, with a great many examples having been recorded from all over the country. See Seán Ó Súilleabháin and Rieder Th. Christiansen, The types of the Irish folktale (Helsinki, 1968).

This story is transcribed also in Róise Ní Bhaoill, Ulster Gaelic voices: bailiúchán Doegen 1931 (Belfast, 2010), 84-93. A version of it appears in Nollaig Mac Congáil and Ciarán Ó Duibhín, Glórtha ón tseanaimsir (Gleann an Iolair, 2009), 13-15. Another version appears in Pádraig Ó Baoighill, Ó Cadhain i dTír Chonaill (Dublin, 2007), 9-19. The story is not included in Anraí Mac Giolla Chomhaill, Scéalta Johnny Shéamaisín (Belfast, 2004), which is a collection of this speaker's tales.