Cover art is ‘The Voyage of Life’ by Thomas Cole

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Notes

Immram Curaig Máil Dúin (“The Voyage of Máel Dúin’s Currach”) is one of the greatest and most elaborate of the Old Irish immrama — the sea-voyage tales that describe a hero’s journey through a series of fantastic islands in the otherworldly ocean. It is probably the longest and most structurally complex of the genre, and directly influenced later works including the Navigatio Sancti Brendani and Tennyson’s poem The Voyage of Maeldune.

The tale opens with the birth and upbringing of Máel Dúin — his father Ailill Ochair Áge of the Éoganacht Ninussa (Éoganacht of the Aran Islands), a warrior who sleeps with a nun (maccaillech) and fathers the boy, is later killed by raiders. Máel Dúin is fostered by a queen and grows up not knowing his true parentage until taunted by a companion, then sets out to find his father’s killers.

The voyage itself — three years and seven months on the ocean — takes Máel Dúin and his crew through a remarkable series of islands, each presenting a different wonder, test, or temptation. The islands visited in this fragment include:

• The island of burning animals — with fiery beasts and magical apple-trees
• The island of the white fortress — with a small cat, three rows of treasure, and a cooked ox
• The island of the black and white sheep — divided by a fence where sheep change colour
• The island of the giant oxen — with a huge herdsman
• The island of the great mill — grinding all the wealth of Ireland
• The island of mourning — where one of Máel Dúin’s foster-brothers joins the weeping people
• The island of four fences — of gold, silver, bronze, and crystal — with a queen who provides food from a single vessel
• The island of the beautiful woman — who provides food and drink for three days
• The island of birds — singing what sounds like psalms
• The island of the pilgrim hermit — an Irish holy man living on miraculous food provided by God
• The island of the golden wall — with a man clothed in his own white hair
• The island of the forge — where a giant smith throws molten metal at them
• The crystal sea — clear to the bottom, full of sunlight and sand
• The island of the mist-sea — a dark, cloud-like ocean with a beautiful land below it
• The island of the great column — a silver column with a silver net, from which Díurán cuts a piece to offer at Armagh

The island on one leg — fragmentary at the end of the manuscriptThe hermit island episode (chapter xix-xx) is theologically the richest — an Irish pilgrim has lived on a tiny island for years, sustained by miraculous half-loaves, fish, and water from a spring provided by angels. His family and kindred appear as the birds in the trees. This episode draws on the desert father tradition and the Navigatio Brendani.

Díurán Leccerd — one of Máel Dúin’s principal companions — is notable for his brave act of cutting the silver net from the great column, vowing to place his share on the altar of Armagh if they survive.

The manuscript is damaged throughout the later sections with lacunae indicated by [gap] notations.

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Translation

The Voyage of Máel Dúin’s Currach — here begins it. Three years and seven months — that is how long he was wandering on the ocean.

{1644} There was a wondrous man of the Éoganacht Ninussa — that is, the Éoganacht of the Aran Islands — Ailill Ochair Áge was his name. {1645} He was a great warrior and the lord of warriors of his own tribe and kindred. {1646} He had intercourse with a young nun — a woman-superior of a nuns’ church. There was a remarkable son between the two of them — {1647} Máel Dúin son of Ailill — he it was. This is the manner in which his conception and the birth of Máel Dúin came about: {1648} once the king of the Éoganacht went on a royal circuit into another territory and boundary — and Ailill Ochair Áge {1650} {folio 22b} in his company. They unyoked and made camp in a mountain there. {1651} There was a nuns’ church close to that mountain. In the {1652} middle of the night — when everyone had gone to rest in the camp — Ailill {1653} went to the church. It was at that hour the nun had come to ring {1654} the bell for matins. Ailill seized her hand and threw her down and lay with her. {1655} The woman said to him: “This is not proper,” said she, {1656} “for this is my time of pregnancy,” said she. “Of what kindred are you and what {1657} is your name?” said she. The warrior said: “Ailill Ochair Áge is my name,” {1658} said he, “of the Éoganacht Ninussa — that is, from Thomond.” The king then went to his territory {1659} after raiding and taking hostages — and Ailill with him. Soon after Ailill reached {1660} his tribe — raiders of a fleet attacked him. They burned Dubcluain {1661} upon him.

{1662} The nun bore a boy at the end of nine months — and gave him the name {1663} Máel Dúin. The boy was then fostered secretly with a woman-friend — {1664} that is, with the queen of the king. And he was reared by her — and she said she was his mother. {1665} He was reared then by one foster-mother — he and three sons of the king — in one cradle {1666} and at one breast and on one back. Beautiful his form — and it would not be found easily {1667} that there was in the body of anyone who could equal him.

{1668} He grew then until he was a young warrior — able to bear weapons. {1669} Great moreover was his splendour and his pride and his athleticism. He was superior {1670} over everyone in his sports — between throwing of balls and running and leaping and casting of stones {1671} and horse-racing. His was the victory in every one of those games. One day {1672}

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{1672} another hired warrior taunted him — saying with anger {1673} and fury: “You,” said he, “whose kindred and people are not known — and whose {1674} mother and father are not known — to be surpassing us in every single game — whether on land {1675} or water or at fidchell — let us face him.” Máel Dúin was silent {1676} then — for he had thought until then that he was the son of the king and of the queen {1677} his foster-mother. He said then to his foster-mother: “I will not eat {1678} and will not drink anything,” said he, “until you tell me {1679} my mother and my father.” “Why,” said she, “do you go pursuing that? {1680} Do not take to heart the words of the proud warriors. It is I who am your mother,” said she. “No greater is the love of anyone in the land {1681} for their son than my love for you.” That thing happened — {1682} “yet tell me the truth about my own parents.”

{1683} His foster-mother went with him then — until she brought him to the hand of his mother — {folio 23a} [gap — two pages missing] — so that they would go after the setting of the sun into the island. They {1684} would strip the apples then and eat them. “Let us go,” said Máel Dúin, “into the island — {1685} it is no harder for us than for the birds.” A man of them went to view the {1686} island — and he called his companions to him from the land. Hot was the earth under his feet {1687} — for the animals were fiery — and they were heating the earth {1688} above them. They brought a little of the apples with them on the first day — and they ate them in the {1689} currach. When it was bright in the morning — the birds went from the island into {1690} swimming on the sea. Then the fiery animals raised their {1692} heads from their lairs — and ate the apples until the setting of the sun. When {1693} the lairs were revisited the birds went back over them to eat {1694} the apples. Then Máel Dúin came with his company — and they gathered a great quantity {1695} of the apples that night. They equally cured their hunger and thirst {1696} with those apples. And they filled their currach with the apples as they found {1697} it pleasant — and they went to sea again.

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XI. {1698} When then those apples were consumed — and great was their hunger {1699} and thirst — and when their mouths and noses were full {1700} of the stench of the sea — they saw an island that was not large — with a fort in it — and a bright high wall {1701} around it — as if it were made of burnt lime — or as if it were one entire {1702} stone of chalk. Great its height from the sea — but it did not reach {1703} the clouds. There were beautiful houses in the fort — snow-white great-gleaming around its {1704} wall. When they went into a house — the greatest of them — they saw no one there — only a small cat {1705} that was on the floor playing on the four stone pillars {1706} that were there. It leaped from pillar to pillar. It looked {1707} a little at the men — and did not hinder it from its play. And they saw then {1708} three rows in the wall of the house around about — from one doorpost to the other.

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{1709} The first row was of brooches of gold and silver — and their pins in the {1710} wall. And a row of neck-torques of gold and silver — like the hoops of a vat — {1711} each of them. The third row of great swords with handles of gold and silver. {1712} Full were the beds with white mattresses and colourful garments. {1713} A cooked ox moreover — and a salted pig on the floor — and great vessels with good {1714} drink of mead. “Is this fort left to us?” said Máel Dúin to the cat. {1715} It looked at him briefly — and resumed its play. Máel Dúin then {1716} understood that it was for them the food had been prepared. They feasted and drank and {1717} {folio 23b} slept. They poured the leavings of the ale into the vats. And they reserved {1718} the leavings of the food. When they then said they would depart — {1719} the third foster-brother of Máel Dúin said: “I will take with me a necklace from these {1720} necklaces.” “No,” said Máel Dúin, “this house is not without a guardian.” {1721} He brought it however as far as the middle of the enclosure. The cat came after them — and {1722} leapt through him like a fiery arrow — burning him so that he was ashes. And went {1723} back again — and was on its pillar. Máel Dúin then appeased the {1724} cat with his words — and put the necklace back in its place — and cleaned the ashes {1725} from the middle of the enclosure — and cast them into the sea. They went then {1726} into their currach — praising and marvelling at the Lord.

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XII. {1727} Early in the morning of the third day after that — they saw another island — and a bronze fence through the middle of it — dividing {1728} the island in two. And they saw great flocks {1729} of sheep in it — a black flock on the near side of the fence — and a white flock on the {1730} far side of the fence. And they saw a great man between the flocks of sheep. {1731} When he threw a white sheep across the fence this side — to the black ones — it was black {1732} immediately. When he threw a black sheep across the fence to that side — it was {1733} white immediately. They were afraid at seeing that. “That is good,” said Máel Dúin — “let us throw two stakes into the island — {1734} to see if they change colour — and we will go in accordingly.” They then threw {1736} stakes with black bark to the side where the white ones were — and it went white immediately. {1737} They threw moreover stakes of bright-peeled wood to the side where the black ones were — {1738} and it was black immediately. “It is safe,” said Máel Dúin — “let us not {1739} go into the island — perhaps our colour would not be better than those of the {1740} stakes.” They went back from the island in fear.

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XIII. {1741} On the third day after that moreover — they noticed another great wide island {1742} with a fine herd of pigs in it. They killed a small piglet of them — and when they brought it {1743} out to cook — they all came around it. They swooped and they did not bring

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{1744} them into the currach toward them. They saw from them then a great mountain on the island — {1745} and they considered going to view that island. When Díurán Leccerd and Germán then {folio 24a} went to ascend the mountain — they encountered a wide river before them {1747} that was not deep. Germán put the butt of his spear into the {1748} river — and it was burned from him immediately as if fire were burning it — {1749} and they went no further. They saw moreover then beyond the river {1750} great bald oxen lying down — and a great man sitting beside them. {1751} Germán put a stick against his shield to drive the oxen. “Why do you drive the lazy calves?” {1752} said that great herdsman. “Where is the mother of these calves?” said {1753} Germán. “They are against that mountain over there,” {1754} said he, “on the far side.” They went back again to their companions — and the tidings were told to them. {1755} They departed then.

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XIV. {1756} They found an island not long after — with a great grain-mill in it — {1757} and a great surly miller of grain there. They asked him whose {1758} mill it was. “It is indeed,” said he — “there is nothing that anyone who knows does not ask of what he does not {1759} recognise,” said he. “Not so,” said he. “Half the grain of the land indeed,” {1760} said he, “is here being ground — everything that anyone complains of in this mill {1761} is ground.” Then they saw the enormous countless burdens on {1762} horses and on people going to the mill — and going from it again — but whatever was taken {1763} from it was taken westward. They asked again what was the name of this {1764} mill. “The Mill of Inber tre Cenand” said the miller. They blessed themselves {1765} then with the sign of Christ’s cross — after all they had heard and seen — {1766} and went back into their currach.

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XV. {1767} When they went from that mill-island — they found a large island {1768} with a great multitude of people in it — all black — in body and clothing. {1769} They were wailing about their heads — and would not cease from weeping. It fell by {1770} lot to one of Máel Dúin’s foster-brothers to go into the island. When he went {1771} to the people who were weeping — he was sad with them immediately {1772} and began weeping with them. Two were sent to bring him out — and they did not recognise him among his {1773} companions — {folio 24b} — they themselves began weeping. Then said Máel Dúin: “Let four of you go,” said he, {1774} “with weapons — and bring the men out by force — and do not look at the land or {1775} the air — and put your garments around your noses {1776} and around your mouths — and do not breathe the air of the land — and keep your eyes {1777} on your own men.” That was done thus. The four went {1778} and they brought the other two with them by force. When they met — what {1779} had they seen in the land? “We know nothing indeed,” said they — “only {1780} what we saw — we did.” They came then quickly from the island {1781} after that.

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XVI. {1782} They reached then another high island — in which there were four {1783} walls that divided it into four. The first wall of gold. Another of {1784} silver. The third wall of bronze — and the fourth of crystal. A king {1785} in the fourth quarter. A queen in another. Young warriors in another. Maidens {1786} in the other. A maiden came toward them — and brought them ashore — and gave {1787} them food — like cheese they compared it — and whatever flavour was most pleasant to {1788} each person — that is what he found in it. And she poured for them from her little vessel — until they were drunk — {1789} for three days and three nights. The maiden had been serving them in this manner. When they woke on the third {1790} — they were in their currach on the sea. {1791} They saw neither the island nor the maiden nor the place where they had been. They departed then.

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XVII. {1792} They found another island — not large — with a fort in it. A {1793} bronze door on it and bronze posts in it. A glass bridge before the door. {1794} When they went up on the bridge — they fell back down again. Then {1795} they saw a woman coming from the fort — with a bucket in her hand. She lifted {1796} a glass plank at the bottom of the bridge — and filled the bucket from the spring {1797} that was under the bridge — and went back again into the fort. “Let a steward go to her,” said {1798} Germán to Máel Dúin. “Máel Dúin indeed,” said she — while closing the door {1799} behind her. She then took the bronze posts and the bronze net {1800} that was upon them — and the sound they made was sweet, gentle music. {1801} At that — he cast them into sleep until the next morning. {1802} When they woke — they saw the same woman coming from the fort {1803} with her bucket — filling it from under the same plank. “Go — {1804} a steward — to Máel Dúin,” said Germán. “Wondrous the power,” said she — Máel [gap] {1805} — while closing the enclosure behind her. She lulled them [gap] the same {1806} as before until the next morning. Three days and three nights for them in this manner. On {1807} the fourth day then — the woman came toward them — beautiful [gap] — {folio 25a} — {1808} a bright cloak around her — and a gold band around her hair — golden hair upon her — two silver anklets {1809} around her white-red feet — a silver brooch with gold clasps in her cloak — {1810} and a silken embroidered shift against her white skin. “Welcome to you, O Máel Dúin,” said she — and {1811} she named every man separately — by his own proper name. “It is long now that your coming here has been {1812} known and established,” said she.

{1813} She brought them then into a great house that was near the sea — and raised their {1814} currach on shore — and they saw before them in the house a bed for Máel {1815} Dúin alone — and a bed for every three of his company. She gave them food in {1816} a single vessel — that is, in one vessel like cheese or rennet — she gave a portion to every three. Whatever flavour {1817} any person desired — that is what he found in it. She moreover served Máel Dúin {1818} separately. She filled the bucket from under the same plank — and poured for them in turn — every three {1819} with her. She stopped pouring when she knew it was enough for them. She was a fitting woman {1820} for Máel Dúin — that woman — beyond all his company. His company said to Máel Dúin: {1821} “Shall we say to her to find out if she will accept you?” “What harm will it do you?” {1822} said he. “What will you say to her?” They came the next day. They said to her: “Would she accept the {1823} friendship of Máel Dúin — and stay with him — and why did she not stay here tonight?” {1824} She said she did not know and did not know what sin was. {1825} She went then from them to her house — and came the next day at the same hour with her service for them. And when they were drunk and {1826} satisfied — they said the same words to her. “Tomorrow indeed,” said she, {1827} “an answer will be given to you in that matter.” She went then to her house — and they slept {1828} on their beds. When they woke — they were in their currach on a rock — {1829} {1830} and they saw neither the island nor the fort nor the woman nor the place where they had been.

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[XVIII.] {1831} When they went from that place — they heard from the northeast a great cry {1832} and singing — as if someone were chanting psalms. That night and the next day {1833} until nones — they were rowing to discover what cry or what singing they had heard. {1834} They saw a high mountainous island — full of black and grey and dappled birds — crying {1835} and making great noise.

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[XIX.] {1836} They rowed a little from that island — until they found another island — not large. {1837} With many trees in it — and many birds upon them. And they saw then a man on the {1838} island — and his hair was his clothing. They asked him who he was and what was his people. {1839} “I am of the men of Ireland,” said he. “I came on pilgrimage [gap] small currach — {1840} and my currach broke under me when I had gone a little from land. I went {1841} to land again [gap] and I bring a sod from my land under my feet — and I have increased [gap] on the sea. The Lord established for me in this place that sod,” said he — “and God adds a foot to its breadth each year from that until now — and a tree {1844} each year grows there.” “The birds you see in the trees,” said he, {1845} “are the souls of my children and my kindred — between women and men — they are there awaiting the day of judgment.” A half-loaf and a piece of fish and water from the spring that God gave him {1846} — {1847} “comes to me each day,” said he, “through the ministry of angels. At the hour of nones moreover {1848} — they all receive a half-loaf and a piece of fish — every single man of them {1849} and every single woman — and water from the spring — as is sufficient for each.” When they were full — after three nights of hospitality — they took their leave — and he told them that they would all reach their own land — {1850} “except one man.”

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XX. {1852} They found on the third day after that another island — with a golden wall around it — and a floor {1853} bright as down. They saw a man in it — and his own white body-hair was his clothing. They asked him {1854} what food he lived on. “There is indeed,” said he, “a spring on this island. On Fridays and Wednesdays — whey or {1855} water is poured from it. On Sundays moreover and on the feasts of martyrs — fine milk is poured from it. {1857} On feasts of apostles and Mary and John the Baptist — ale and wine {1858} are poured from it — and also on solemnities.” At nones moreover — there came to them all from the Lord — a half-loaf for each man and a piece of fish — and they drank their fill {1860} of the liquid brought to them from the spring of the island — and it cast them into a sleep of slumber {1861} from that hour until the next morning. When they had spent three nights of hospitality — the cleric ordered them to depart — and they went then and {1862} took their leave of him after that.

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XXI. {1864} When they had been long moving on the waves — they saw {1865} far from them an island. And when they drew near to it — they heard the sound of {1866} smiths hammering iron on the anvil with great blows — like the hammering {1867} of three or four men. When then they went closer — they heard the man asking {1868} the other: “Are they near?” said he to the other. “Yes,” said the other man — “do those you say are coming {1869} — appear like little boys in a small boat from there?” said he. When Máel Dúin heard {1870} what the smiths had said: “Let us go back,” said he, “and let us not turn the currach — but let its stern go {1871} first — lest they notice our flight.” They rowed then — stern first before the currach. He asked {1872} again — the same man who was in the forge: “Are they near the harbour now?” said he. {1873} “They are not moving,” said the lookout, “neither coming here nor going there.” {1874} Not long after that — he asked again: “What are they doing now?” said he. “I think,” {1875} said the lookout — “I think they are fleeing — they seem to me further from the harbour now {1876} than before.” The smith came out then from that forge — {1877} and a huge glowing mass in the tongs in his hand — and he threw that glowing mass after {1879} the currach into the sea — so that the whole sea boiled — but it did not reach them — {1880} for they had fled under the strength of vigorous urgency out into the great ocean.

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XXII. {1882} They rowed then until they found a sea — comparable to green glass {1883} in its clarity — so that the sun and the sand of the sea were bright through it — and they saw {1884} neither beasts nor animals anywhere around the rocks — only the clear sun and {1885} the grey sand — they were a long time of the day rowing that sea — and great was its {1886} brightness and beauty.

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XXIII. {1887} They cast from there into another sea — comparable to a cloud — and it seemed to them {1888} that it would not support themselves nor the currach — and they saw then under the sea {1889} below them a beautiful fortified place and a fine land — and they saw great {1890} horrible monstrous animals in an enclosure there — and a herd of cattle and property around {1891} the enclosure in a circuit — and a man with his weapons beside the enclosure — with shield and spear {1892} and sword. When he saw those great animals that were in the enclosure — {1893} he went immediately fleeing. The animal stretched its neck from the enclosure {1894} and put its head on the back of the largest ox of the herd — and pulled it {1895} into the enclosure and ate it immediately — before the blinking of an eye. The cattle and the herdsman fled immediately. {1896} And when Máel Dúin and his company saw that — they were seized by great fear and terror — for they thought they would not pass over it {1898} without falling through it — as thin as mist. They crossed over it however {1899} after great danger.

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XXIV. {1900} They found then another island — and it rose from the sea upward — {1901} making great cliffs around it in a circuit. When the people of that land noticed {1902} them — they began crying out around them — saying: “It is them! It is them!” over and over from the {1903} {folio 26b} far side. They then saw many people and great herds of cattle and {1904} flocks of horses and many herds of sheep. There was moreover a woman pelting them {1905} from below with great nuts — until they rested on the waves above them. They gathered many of those nuts and brought them away. {1906} They moved from the island {1907} back — and the cries stopped at that. “Where are they now?” said the {1908} man who came under the cries after them. “They have gone to another quarter,” said another quarter of them. {1909} “They are not like that anymore,” said another quarter. It is what that resembles moreover — as if {1910} there were someone in their prophecy — to pardon their territory and to expel them {1911} from their land.

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XXV. {1912} They took another island — where a wondrous thing appeared to them — that is, a great stream {1913} rose from the beach of the island — going like an arch of heaven across the whole island — until it {1914} poured into the beach on the other side of the island from the other side — and they went {1915} under it without getting wet — and they gathered great salmon from it. Great enormous salmon fell {1916} from the stream down onto the ground of the island below — until the whole island was full of their stench — {1917} for there was no one to collect them — so great were their numbers. From Saturday evening {1918} to Tuesday morning — that stream did not move — {1919} but rested in silence in the sea around the island in a circuit. They took a great number of the salmon {1920} and filled their currach — and went from that island back onto the ocean.

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XXVI. {1923} They rowed then until they found a great silver column. Four {1924} sides to it — each side the width of two oar-strokes of the currach against each side — so that there were eight oar-strokes of the currach around it all — {1925} and there was not one foot of land around it — only the boundless ocean. {1926} And they could not see how it was below at its base or above at its top — {1927} for its height. There was a silver net from its top {1928} extending far from it outward — and the currach went under sail through a mesh of the {1929} net. And Díurán gave a blow of the edge of his spear through a mesh of the net. “Do not damage the net,” said {1930} Máel Dúin — “for it is the work of a great man that we see.” “For the praise of God’s name,” said Díurán — “I do this — so that what I take may be believed — {1931} and it will be brought from me to the altar of Armagh — if we reach Ireland.” [gap] half an ounce — that was what was in it when measured at Armagh. [gap] Then {1934} a great clear voice from the top of that column [gap] — but they knew not what language it spoke or what [gap].

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XXVII. {1936} They saw another island moreover — resting on one leg — that is, one leg [gap] — and they rowed {1937} around it in search of a way into it — and [manuscript breaks off]

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