I have been in England on assignment now for nearly two months and we are closing in on the big date to start up the plant I’m working on. Deadlines are never approached with a sense of calm, or at least very rarely, so as you might guess… my oppertunities to read are at the moment very limited.

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My fiance is here this week on visit though, and as we walked along Chester we stumbled in to Waterstones, a bookstore with that special character (!) I picked up the most unlikely book: The Oxford Book of War Poetry. Not that I never read poetry before, but I have never owned a book of poetry, until now.

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I feel it being a good complement for me right now. As poems are a fair amount shorter than novels, but not at all the less interesting. Just this weekend I fell into a poem written anonymously around the 12th century called The Lament of Maev Leith-Dherg. It tells of an Irish king and  his triumphs in life and, supposedly, his last battle. After reading it, I felt I needed to look up further about the poems’ hero.

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Raise the Cromlech high!
MacMoghcorb is slain,
And other men’s renown
Has leave to live again.

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Cold at last he lies
Neath the burial-stone;
All the blood he shed
Could not save his own.

*

Stately-strong he went,
Through his nobles all
When we paced together
Up the banquet-hall.

*

Dazzling white as lime
Was his body fair,
Cherry-red his cheeks,
Raven-black his hair.

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Razor-sharp his spear,
And the shield he bore,
High as a champion’s head-
His arm was like an oar.

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Never aught but truth
Spake my noble king;
Valour all his trust
In all his warfaring.

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As the forked pole
Holds the roof-tree’s weight,
So my hero’s arm
Held the battle straight.

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Terror went before him
Death behind his back;
Well the wolves of Erinn
Knew his chariot’s track.

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Seven bloody battles
He broke upon his foes;
In each a hundred heroes
Fell beneath his blows.

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Once he fought at Fossud
Thrice at Ath-finn-Fail
‘Twas my king that conquered
At bloody Ath-an-scail.

*

At the boundary Stream
Fought the Royal Hound,
And for Bernas battle
Stands his name renowned.

*

Here he fought with Leinster-
Last of all his frays-
On the Hill of Cucorb’s Fate
High his Cromlech raise.

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The poem features in the renowned Book of Leinster, one of the most influential pieces of Irish literature. This made me think twice about one of the interpretations I found on the web, saying that the last piece suggests the king MacMoghCorb was fighting against Leinster… but the poem really says with Leinster. Searching around on various ancestry sites I fell upon this name: Cu Corb Mac Mogh Corb, King of Leinster. And to me it all fits in place, taking into account the first and last stanzas:

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”MacMoghCorb is slain…”

”On the Hill of CuCorb’s Fate…”

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How wonderful it is, the feeling one gets, to unravel a piece of history.