The song of Amergin

Scholar/poet Robert Graves, in The White Goddess, wrote, "English poetic education should, really, begin not with the Canterbury Tales, not with The Odyssey, not even with Genesis, but with The Song of Amergin." Amergin was the great bard of the Gaels of the pre-Christian era (as was the Welsh poet Taliesin). The poetry of Amergin wasn't committed to writing until after the 5th century A.D. when the Latin alphabet was theoretically introduced to Ireland by St. Patrick. 

This poem has survived in various versions, making Amergin the oldest known western European poet—predating the classic Greek and Roman poets. The Celts originally came from what is now Austria to the Middle East, to the Iberian peninsula, Ireland and beyond. They all relied upon poets to remember their historical and mythological past. 

The Celts committed very little to writing, though they had access to Greek letters, and used the Ogham alphabet. The poets, the bards, and filidhe studied with master teachers (Druids) for 20 or more years, memorizing hundreds of poems. Amergin was a master poet. The Song of Amergin is the poem Amergin chanted when he first set foot on Ireland (his tribe probably migrated from Iberia). 

The poem begins with thirteen statements followed by six questions and an envoi in which advises the People of the Sea to invoke the poet of the sacred Rath (fort) to give them a poem. He will supply the poet with the material, and together they will compose an incantation. The poem was probably a cypher, or mnemonic database of important poems. I think of it as thirteen moons—an ancient cypher or riddle, or the metaphoric naming of things and ideas. 

Am gáeth i mmuir

Am gáeth i m-muir, [wind/ sea

Am tond trethan,

Am fuaim mara,
Am dam secht ndirend, [dam = ox, deer, stag?)
Am séig i n-aill, [séig = hawk, eagle
Am dér gréne,
Am cain lubai,
Am torc ar gail,
Am he i l-lind,
Am loch i m-maig,
Am brí a ndai,
Am bri danae,
Am bri i fodb fras feochtu,
Am dé delbas do chind codnu,


Coiche nod gleith clochur slébe?
Cia on co tagair aesa éscai?
Cia du i l-laig fuiniud gréne?

Ádh mór.


— Attributed to Amergin, ca. 500 AD

 Note bene: Old/Middle Irish, from the Lebor Gabála Érenn (The Book of Takings) FWIW there were no capital letters in Old Irish. Just really fancy ones! The early Irish scribes did invent spaces between words— not to mention the copyright. This is the short ending. I left out the cattle of Tethra. Most of this was compiled before the Internet. Gasp!

Sources: 

Best, Richard, & Bergin, Osborn. The Book of Leinster 1. Dublin 1954. 

Connella, Patrick. The Poems of Amergin. Trans. Ossin. Soc. 5, 1857.
Henry, Patrick. Saoithiulacht na Sean-Gaeilge. Dublin 1978.
Travis, James. Early Celtic Versecraft. Ithaca 1973.

Macalister, R.A. Stewart. Lebor Gabála 5. Dublin 1956. (I think I used this v., from the Lyman collection, ca 1978, Sonoma State University—you could take books off the shelf at random. I lost entire days browsing. Now an appointment is needed which  means you have to know what you’re looking for.) Booklist is from daltai.com

• 2024: Culled from the Internet for your reading pleasure. 
This v. was turned into a triad. 
This site has the full version, as does this site which includes the Medieval glosses. Ignore the Amergin name thing. She doesn’t know WTF she’s talking about. For starters, the inclusion of the h or haich, as my granny would say, should be a major clue that it’s in modern Irish. NOT Old Irish. My grandmother tried to teach me Gaelic League Irish (based on Medieval Insular half-uncial script) with its sí buailte, so I’m semi-illiterate in Middle Irish. During the late 1990s, I took a year of modern Irish and a year of Old Irish at UC Berkeley—which gave me direct access to the University of Cork archives. This guy Michael M. Burch lifted MY crib notes from this site! I was puzzling over the stag and hawk lines which he included in his transliteration. Sébac has changed a bit from Middle Irish.

THE SONG OF AMERGIN 

I am the wind which breathes upon the ocean. 
I am the murmur of the billowing waves of the sea. 
I am the breakers of threatening doom. 
I am the stag of seven tines. 
I am the strength of the ox of seven combats. 
I am the deftness of the griffin 
and the hawk upon the cliffs. 
I am a dewdrop, a tear the sun lets fall. 
I am among the fairest of flowers. 
I am the ruthless wild boar of valor, 
I am the knowledge of salmon in hidden pools. 
I am a vast lake flooding the plain. 
I am the strength of art, a word of science. 
I am a hill where poets walk. 
I am a lure from beyond the world's end. 
I am the point of the lance that hungers for battle. 
I am the one who created in the head the fire 

I am wisdom: who but I cools the head aflame with smoke? 
I am an infant; who but I knows the secret 
of the unhewn dolman? 

Who throws light into the gathering of stones 
on the mountains? 
Who announces the foretold ages of the moon?  
Who teaches the place where sleeps the sun? (if not I?) 

Anonymous (attributed to Amergin), Ireland, 5th c. from Oral Tradition, tr. Robert Graves 

(Note: This version below is a compilation of translations from several ancient sources that caught my eye ( Ahem, pre-Internet). I tried to restore some of the coded information by adding the medieval glosses into the text. But in the classroom, I went back to the original Graves translation. I also include the early medieval Irish version, as it is in the original language.)

I. am a dewdrop, a tear the sun lets fall, 

I am among the fairest of flowers, 

I am the ruthless wild boar of valor, 

I am the knowledge of salmon in hidden pools, 

I am a vast lake flooding the plain, 

I am the strength of art, a word of science, 

I am a hill where poets walk.
I am a lure from beyond the world's end.
I am the point of the lance that hungers for battle. 

I am the one who created in the head the fire. 

I am wisdom; who but I cools the head aflame with smoke?
I am an infant; who but I knows the secret of the unhewn dolmen?
Who throws light into the gathering of stones on the mountains?
Who announces the foretold ages of the moon? 

Who teaches the place where sleeps the sun?
(If not ?)

* * *

Invoke, O People of the Sea, invoke the poet, 

so that he may compose a spell for you.
Who forms weapons in a fortress that nourishes the satire of bards?
Who has sought peace without fear seven times? 

Named the waterfalls? Who will the constellations of fish
of the laughing sea make welcome?
For I, the Druid, who set out the letters in Ogham, 

I, who have sung praises to part combatants, to divide a fleet,
I will approach the Rath of the Sidhe to seek a wise poet.
Together we may create incantations.
For I am the wind of the sea.

This version is from several ancient sources that I compiled for a teaching recipe I developed in the 1980s. I no longer use this version. I prefer the one below.

• (For some prehistory on Irish poetry, see Adze-Heads & Blind Poets: Anthony Raftery—the bardic tradition)