able to put that bellow out of him?“ “I was,” said the fourth person, “sitting on the top of the rock of the ivy, and I had a view of the house, and when I heard all the noise I looked over and I saw, as might be, an eagle and an intensely black swarm of crows rising up into the sky, and a wonder was upon me to say that they would be able to make the like of it of a noise.”
They went along (with them) in that way, talking and disputing and mixing (the story) through itself, and Seadhna did not speak a word. They kept all the talk to themselves, and he did not grudge them. He had no desire for talk, for fear any word should slip from him that would open his mind. Besides that and all, he had matter for thought that kept him occupied. He was thinking of the horse and of the cow, and of what would the neighbours all say when they would see him on horseback. They would ask where did he get the money. What excuse would he have to give from him?
When they reached the fair field, and Seadhna saw all the horses, a bewilderment come upon him, and he did not know what was good for him to do. There were big horses there and little horses, old horses and young horses, black horses and white horses, grey horses and speckled horses, horses neighing and horses jumping, horses that were well-skinned and large-built and stately, and ugly little colts with the old hair clinging to them.
Among all of them together, it was failing him completely to settle his mind upon the one that would please him. At length he laid his eye upon a nice jet-black horse, which was, with collected and concentrated energy, cantering along the field and a light, lissom rider upon his back. Seadhna moved up and made a sign to the rider. Before the rider had time to notice him, three other riders passed him out, and they went, all four, away down the field at full gallop. There was a double fence between them and the field outside, and they went all four together, freely, lightly, with well-directed motion, over the back of that fence, without putting the top of a hind or fore leg in it. Then they go right ahead in a perfectly straight line without any of them having an inch of advantage over another. Onward they go; the breast and slender body of each horse all but touching the green grass that was on the field, he head of each horse stretched out completely, the head of each rider bent down, and they going as the “fairy wind” would go.
There was not a person, young or old, at the fair, that was not standing erect watching them except the man of the thimbles.
When they were making upon the second fence everyone noticed that the black horse was a little stroke to the front. When they were clearing the fence the black horse and the horse next to him swept over it as the crow would sweep. The other two put their feet in it. The sod went from the feet of the farthest out horse, and himself and his rider fell at the other side of the fence. “Oh ! . . . . he is killed,” all the people shouted. The shout was not out of their mouth when he was mounted again; but if he was, his horse was lame and he had to return.
Onward went the three, and the fair watching them, the people so mute that Seadhna heard plainly the hard, measured, musical, well-defined blows which the feet of those horses struck upon the sod of the field, like a dancer that would be dancing on a board.
Seadhna noticed by this time that black horse was well to the front, and he, pulling right a-head for a stick that was standing in the field, and a red cloth of some sort on the top of it. Around that stick he swept. There was the second horse after him. Then was the third horse after him. On they went after each other in the direction of his left hand, to the north-east, the black horse leading, and he moving away from them. The last horse quickened, and he was catching up upon the second horse. He sharpened (quickened) and they were both catching up upon the black horse. Then Seadhna and the fair saw the sight. That black horse slendered himself. The rider softened the bridle to him, and then he was out as a hound would go, and that you would imagine there was not a foot of his touching the ground, hut he moving along near the ground as a hawk would be (moving).
By that time there arose from the place to the north-east, that the horse was making for it, a hunting-shout. The shout was taken up all round the fair; Seadhna had to put his fingers in his ears or his head would be split. Everybody was running and everybody was shouting. Seadhna ran and shouted along with them, and he did not know for what.
When the running and the shouting ceased, Seadhna saw opposite him six or seven gentlemen, and a head of flesh and a big stomach and a suit of broad-cloth on each of them, and they talking to each other, and looking at the black horse. “How much would you sell him for?” said one of them to the rider.
“For a thousand pounds,” said the rider.
When Seadhna heard that word, he turned on his heel, saying in his own mind, “I would not have any business of him, he would kill me.”
Who should be behind him but the man of the thimbles. “He would kill you, is it?” said the man of the thimbles, “Oyewisha! gradda hoot! you yellow little shoemaker of the mallivogue, of the generation of brown theeveens and thick awls and strong-smelling shoes; if it is not upon you the rising up (presumption) is, coming here to buy a horse without a penny in your pocket!”
(To be continued).
NOTES.
Um is much used in Munster still.
lom díreaċ, in a perfectly straight line.
liú fiaiḋ, a hunting shout, also, any loud and general shout.
do ṡearg. he made himself slim, by stretching and straining himself more.
an raḋarc: This use of the definite article requires to be well-studied; it is quite general in Irish, when an indefinite word would be used in English; thus: Connac an rud ag teaċt = I saw something approach.
go maiṫ i dtosaċ, well to the front.
ḃuille ar tosaċ, a little ahead.
Ag deanaṁ ar, approaching, making towards.
Coilg-ṡeasaṁ, standing erect.
Sa’ mbreis: note use of definite article.
an ṗáirc amuiċ, the field beyond.
Tá an éagcóir agat, you are quite wrong.
ar a léim-lúṫ, I heard that this, a long time ago, used to mean, ‘at full gallop.’
Do ġluaiseadar a gceaṫrar, the four of them went.
Fuine fáisgṫe, full of braced-up energy and well-knit.
Note that cumasaċ is not plural, while gioballaċa is.
Uaiḋ: this pronoun cannot be omitted in this phrase; it may in the English translation.
Dá éagṁuis sin ⁊ uile, besides that and all.
Níor ṁór leis dóiḃ é, he didn’t begrudge it to them.
mar ḃeiḋeaḋ fiolar, what appeared to be an eagle.
Eist do ḃeul, shut up, stop talking.
Ceann feóla, a large fleshy head.
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