Raftery - The Poet’s Praise of Mary Hynes [Video]

Antoine O Raifteiri (Anthony Raftery) was an 18th-century blind Irish poet and fiddle player who came from the ancient bardic tradition. He lived and walked the roads of Mayo and, later, predominantly, South Galway, playing music and reciting poetry in the time before the famine.

In ancient Gaelic culture, the bard was a professional storyteller, verse-maker, composer, historian, and, in many ways, a genealogist. They were employed by a patron (such as a chieftain or, later on, a landlord) to commemorate one or more of the patron's ancestors and to praise the patron's activities.

When I think about who or what has influenced the Irish psyche most over the centuries, I think of this poet, Antoine O Raifteiri and his work. He was, without doubt, amongst them. 

Raifteirí An File - (Raftery the Poet) - His Beginnings

Raftery was born in Killedan, County Mayo, in 1779. He was the son of a weaver who worked for the local Landlord, Frank Taaffe, of Kiltimagh. Raftery himself also worked for the landlord until, it is said, he was thrown out after an accident in which one of the landlord’s favourite horses died.

Sometime between 1785 and 1788, his life changed tragically and utterly. By all accounts, It all started with a cough and a rash on Antoine’s hand. Soon, two of the children began experiencing headaches. Another child had a high fever. Soon, the children were covered in that same rash. They had contracted smallpox. Within three weeks, eight of the nine children had died. One of the last things young Antoine saw before going blind was his eight siblings laid out dead on the floor. (1)

It is hard to comprehend the profound grief and severe trauma of such an experience. 

It is truly beyond comprehension to imagine the fear and terror of such a memory. What is astonishing, then, is how he produced what can only be described as beauty in his later adult life. He recounted, in lyric, the pain and beauty of life, love, nature, grief and loss, wisdom and the experience of a changing world as it was happening around him. He lived through the 1798 Rebellion, the Tithe War, and the Repeal Movement's beginning. He lived through the struggle for Catholic Emancipation. 

Interestingly, one of his epic poems, “Seanachas an Sceatha” (meaning “Folklore of the hedge/bush”), tells how the bush meets the poet and speaks to him about all he had ever witnessed since the beginning of time.

To bear witness is to attempt to understand. To make meaning of the darkness. This is to try to understand what sometimes is– the unfathomable. When we are in turbulent change, we need a witness. A seeing into what was. Trauma is so bewildering and uprooting, “Did that actually happen?”. A witness into the darkness is where we can find our anchor and connection again.

Raftery, as many poets do, spoke of what it is to be alive and human. This is etched in the beauty of his words.  He is probably one of my favourite poets. He has always moved me so deeply. What I find challenging is how hard it is to do justice to the original text when translating into English. Perhaps that is the challenge of all translation texts for all languages. For me, something is often missing. Something gets lost on that bridge.

The Irish language has a beautiful lyrical, poetic turn of phrase that its true essence is hard to capture in translation. There may always be a loss around that, which may be inherent to the loss of language for a country whose first language is no longer the dominant language spoken today.  A second language simply does not do justice to the true expression of the soul of a country. 

His Best-Known Work

Raftery’s best-known poems are probably ‘Mise Raifteiri an File’, ‘ Cill Aodain’, and ‘Anach Cuan’. He never wrote his poems down but taught them to others during his lifetime. Later, these extraordinary poems were collected by Douglas Hyde and Lady Gregory after his death. 

As a country, we owe such a debt of gratitude to their effort in recognising the importance of writing these stories down. One beautiful book I came across gives wonderful accounts from people who had known Raftery or heard from others who had met him. 

One such book is Many Leaves, One Root, a History of the Parish of Kiltartan by Mary de Lourdes Fahy RSM. In it, it gives wonderful accounts of what Lady Gregory and Douglas Hyde wrote down from the people in Kiltartan who remembered him, whose verses were recited at weddings, wakes and firesides. 

One such account is as follows:

Toor Ballylee - Yeat's Tower at Ballylee

“Raftery hadn't a stim of sight. He was the best poet that ever was and the best fiddler. It was always at my father's house, opposite the big tree, that he used to stop when he was in Kilchreest. Though he was blind, he could serve himself with his knife and fork as well as any man with his sight”.

Another Kiltartan neighbour told Lady Gregory:

“He used to stay with my uncle who was a hedge schoolmaster in those times at Ballylee and who was very fond of drink. But at evening, he'd open the school and neighbors who would be working all day would gather in to him and he'd teach them through the night and there Raftery would be in the middle of them”.

W. B Yeats had a castle (Toor Ballylee) in Ballylee, where Raftery based his stunning poem about Mary Hynes. W. B Yeats heard a lot about Raftery when he lived there. By account, somebody told W.B Yeats:

“If you treated him well, he'd praise you; but if you didn't, he'd fault you in Irish.” 

Mary Hynes of Ballylee 

Raftery wrote a stunning love poem about an actual woman, Mary Hynes, from Ballylee. By account, Mary was truly beautiful. 

Lady Gregory was told: 

“There usedn't be a hurling match in the county that she wouldn't be at and a white dress on her always. Eleven men asked her in marriage in one single day but she couldn't marry any of them. One man went to Ballylee to see her and when he came to the bog of Cloon he fell into the water and was drowned.” 

Raftery's full poem, as translated by Lady Gregory.  

Ag dul chuig an Aifrean dom le toil na nGrasta

Bhí ‘n lá ‘cur báistí is d’ardaigh gaoth
Casadh an ainnir liom le taobh Chill Tártain
Is thit mé láithreach i ngrá le mnaoi
Do labhair mé léithe go múinte mánla
‘S de réir a cáilíocht’ do fhreagair sí
Sé dúirt sí – “Raft’rí, tá m’intinn sásta
‘Gus gluais go lá liom go Baile Uí Laí”

Nuair a fuair mé an tairiscint níor lig mé ar cairde é
Ach rinne mé gáire ‘gus ghet mo chroí
Ní raibh le gabháil againn ach trasna páirce
Níor thug muid an lá ann go tóin an tí
Leag sí anuas bord a raibh gloine is cárt air
Is cúilín fáinneach le m’ais ina suí
‘Séard dúirt sí: ‘Raiftaraí, bí ag ól is céad fáilte
Tá an siléar láidir a’ainn i mBaile Uí Lí

Sí Máire Ní Eidhin an stáidbhean bhéasach
Ba dheise méin agus b’áille gnaoi
Dhá chéad cléireach ‘s a gcur le chéile
Agus trian a tréithre ní fhéadfadh scríobh
Buail sí Déirdre le breáthacht is Véineas
Is dá n-abrainn Hélen le’r scriosadh an Traoi —
Ach scoth ban Éireann as ucht an mhéid sin
An pósae gléigeal ‘tá i mBaile Uí Laí

Nach aoibhinn aerach ar thaobh an tsléibhe
Is tú ag féachaint síos uait ar Baile Uí Lí
A’ siúl na ngleannta a’ baint cnó is sméara
‘Gus ceiliúr éan ann mar na ceolta sí
Níl brí sa méid sin dá bhfaigheá léargas
Ar bláth na gcraobh ‘tá lena thaobh
Níl maith dá shéanadh níos fada ar aon neach
A spéir na gréine, is tú grá mo chroí

Dá Siúilfeá Sasana ‘s an Fhrainc le chéile
An Spáinn, an Ghréig ‘s ar ais arís
Ó bhruach Loch Gréine go Béal Loch Éirne
‘S ní fheicfeá féirín ar bith mar í
A grua thrí lasadh is a mailí caola
A haighaidh dá réir is a béal tais mín
Scoth ban Éireann, is as ucht an scéil sin
A thug mé an chraogh dhuit i mBaile Lí

A réalt tsolais, is a ghrian bhreá an Fhomhair
A chúilín ómra a mheall mo chroí
Siúil ar uaigneas liom go ndeanfaidh ár gcomhairle
Fá choinne an Domhnaigh cá mbeidh ár suí
Níor mhór liom ceol dhuit gach aon tráthnóna
Puins ar bord is dá n-ólta fíon
Ach Rí na Glóire, go dtriomaí an bóthar
Is go bhfaighe mé an t-eolas ar ais aríst

1. Going to Mass by the will of God,
the day came wet and the wind rose;
I met Mary Hynes at the cross of Kiltartan,
and I fell in love with her there and then.
I spoke to her kind and mannerly,
as by report was her own way; and
she said "Raftery my mind is easy;
you may come to-day to Ballylee."

2. When I heard her offer I did not linger;
when her talk went to my heart my heart rose.
We had only to go across the three fields;
we had daylight with us to Ballylee.
The table was laid with glasses and a quart measure;
she had fair hair and she sitting beside me;
and she said, "Drink, Raftery, and a hundred welcomes;
there is a strong cellar in Ballylee."

3. There is sweet air on the side of the hill,
when you are looking down upon Ballylee;
when you are walking in the valley picking nuts and blackberries,
there is music of the birds in it and music of the Sidhe.
What is the worth of greatness till you have the light of the flower
of the branch that is by your side?
There is no good to deny it or to try and hide it;
she is the sun in the heavens who wounded my heart.

4. There was no part in Ireland I did not travel,
from the rivers to the tops of the mountains;
to the edge of Lough Greine whose mouth is hidden,
and I saw no beauty but was behind hers.   
Her hair was shining and her brows were shining too;
her face was like herself, her mouth pleasant and sweet;
She is the pride and I give her the branch;
she is the shining flower of Ballylee.

5. It is Mary Hynes, the calm and easy woman,
has beauty in her mind and in her face.
If a hundred clerks were gathered together,
they could not write down a half of her ways.

6. O star of light and O sun in harvest;
O amber hair, O my share of the world!
Will you come with me on the Sunday,
till we agree together before all the people?
I would not begrudge you a song every Sunday evening;
punch on the table or wine if you would drink it.
But O King of Glory, dry the roads before me
Till I find the way to Ballylee.

Immortality 

What is beautiful is how this poem immortalized Mary Hynes and is such a tribute to beauty and love.   

“An old woman who lived close to Ballylee Castle stated: “I often saw Mary Hynes, she was handsome indeed. She had two bunches of curls beside her cheeks and they were the colour of silver. I was at her wake too- she had seen too much of the world.”

I visited Raftery’s grave some years ago. W. B. Yeats and Lady Gregory had placed a stone to mark it. Raftery himself died on Christmas Eve in 1836 in a house in Kiltartan. It is said that “a wind blew sharply the night he died, and during the funeral, and the candles never quenched. That, according to a witness. “shows that the Lord had a hand in him.”

Placing a stone on his grave was a gesture of reverent recognition of Raftery, The poet. 

It was also a testament to the soul’s eternal need for beauty, for poetry. It is a remembering of an ancient Gaelic world that Raftery lived through and was part of. It is also a marker of what was to come - the brutality of a famine upon a people, that would leave a mark on the Psyche of a country for centuries to come. 

References: 

(1), "The Deel Basin : a historical survey". Crossmolina Historical & Archaeological Society. 2 (8). [Crossmolina]: 106. 1990.

(2)Many Leaves, One Root, a History of the parish of Kiltartan, by Mary de Lourdes Fahy RSM. The Kiltartan Gregory Cultural Society 2004

(3) Raftery's Praise of Mary Hynes." translated by Lady Augusta Persse Gregory (1852-1932)

Publication: The Kiltartan Poetry Book. by Lady Gregory. New York: G. Putnam's Sons, 1919. pp. 31-33.

(4) Ciarán Ó Coigligh (1987)  Raiftearaí. Amhráin agus Dánta Published by An Clochomar Tta, 1987

(5) Tadhg Mac Dhonnagáin (2015) Mise Raiftearaí: An Fíodóir Focal. futa fata