Stokes, Lives of Saints from the Book of Lismore (1890) — translated from the Irish.

¹ There was a famous hospitaller in Ulster in days of old of the Mugdorna in particular — Finnlogha son of Setna son of Abrann son of Branán son of Dubhda son of Aenghus son of Erc Derg son of Brian son of Eochaidh Muighmedhán. He had a wife for thirty years, until death took her — Cáemell daughter of Aedh Fogart of the men of Brega.

² His own friend and foster-brother, Fiacha Suidhe son of the king of Ireland, bade him go and ask for another wife, that he might not be wasting away with grief as he had been for the loss of his own wife. She was Idhnait daughter of Flann Leithderg of the Ciannachta of Gleann Geimhin from Comar Cinn tSlébhe. He asked for that girl then, and she became pregnant by him.

³ Now Finnlogha and his household commanded his foster-brother — Fiacha Suidhe — to betray the king of Tara, Blathmac son of Aedh Sláine. The treachery was done; and Diarmait son of Aedh Sláine took the kingship of Tara after his brother. The party of the treachery was driven out northwards: Fiacha son of the king of Tara and Finnlogha his foster-brother, and a thousand fighting men with him.

⁴ Then it was that Mael Tuile son of Cuilche, Finnlogha’s soul-friend, chanced to meet them; and it was revealed to him that the girl was pregnant, and that the child in her womb would be a famous birth such as would fill the mouths of the men of Ireland. And Mael Tuile said:

⁵ He shall attack hosts,
he shall rout foes,
he shall seek royal diadems,
he shall be a staff for Tara’s defence,
he shall enlarge Leinster,
he shall succour the Leinstermen.

⁶ Then the cleric asked that the child in the girl’s womb be offered to God and taken to study; and they promised him that. They were taken then to the king of Connacht, Eochaidh Tirmcharna; and from Eochaidh they were taken to the king of Munster, Aenghus son of Nat Fraech, at Cashel; and he gave them land in the country of Múscraige, and they made a famous fort there — Ráith Ua Cuile.

⁷ Then his people made a great feast for the king of the men of Munster — Mellend son of Turc — in the hall west of Ráith Ua Cuile. Finnchua’s mother went, being pregnant, and asked a drink of the ale over the vessels, for a craving for the ale had seized her, and she was refused. The child that was in her womb spoke and said this there:

⁸ “Deny her, urge her not” —
great the insult he cast on the Ulstermen for it,
as a hound is lapped
at milk.

⁹ The girl then went to her house, and her attendants loosed the vats for her, and she drank her fill of the ale. Then the king of the men of Munster, Meleand, came to the house where the lady was; and when he heard the tale he took his band with him in pursuit of the girl to kill her. A covering of concealment was put about the girl by the grace of the child in her womb, so that she reached Ráith Ua Cuile safe and sound.

¹⁰ After that the girl’s time came, and pains came upon her, and the noble boy that was in her womb was born.

¹¹ The promised child was then taken to Ailbhe of Imlech Ibhair to be baptised, and a screaball was given him for the baptism — seven pennies of gold. Ailbe then blessed the child, and a name was put upon him — Finnchua; and Ailbe said he should be put to study at the end of seven years. The baptismal party went then with the boy to Ráith Ua Cuile.

¹² Then Cumuscach son of Conn, of the king of Fir Tefa’s race — a sister’s son to Finnchua himself — came to ask for the boy to foster him; and it was granted him, and the boy was reared in Cumuscach’s house at Ard na Rígraide above the shore of Loch Rí, until the end of seven years.

¹³ Then Comhghall came on his visitation of the Clann Néill and chanced upon Cumuscach’s house, and saw the young lad in the house before him, and an angel’s spirit attending him. Comgall loved him and asked who he was. “That is Finnchua,” said they, “son of Finnlogha.” “And I reared him,” said Cumuscach, “and Ailbhe baptised him.” Comgall asked the boy of his foster-father, and he was given to him. The boy gave Comgall his love and went with him to his dwelling at Bennchar in Ulster, and studied there like every other fosterling.

¹⁴ Now Comgall had a field of grass at that time, and thralls used to be keeping it until Finnchua came. When the thralls grew weary, Finnchua said: “Let it be left to us fosterlings to keep the grass-field every day in turn.” Comgall said: “Do you keep it today before all.” Then Finnchua went to keep the grass.

¹⁵ The king of Ulster — Scannlán son of Dúnadhaigh — came with his host to Bennchar, and they put their horses into the grass-field to Finnchua. Thrice he sent them away from him. In the end he grew angry with them and cursed them, so that the horses were turned into stones — from which it is called Gort na Liag (“the Field of the Stones”) from that time forth. That is Férgort na Mogad (“the Thralls’ Grass-field”) to this day.

¹⁶ The king was enraged at that, and messengers went from him to Comgall to learn of him who had done that deed. Comgall came with his fosterlings to the king, and Finnchua among the rest. The king recognised him — that it was he who had done that deed from the description that the messengers had given him — and the king’s eye reddened at him so that they became fiery red.

¹⁷ Finnchua perceived that and grew angry with the king, so that the earth rose around him and reached to his knees. Comgall saw that, and looked over his shoulder, and said to Finnchua: “It is better for you to be great yourself now,” said Comgall. Finnchua blushed at that and put his head under Comgall’s hood, so that he burned the hood. “By God, little son,” said Comgall, “let not anger take you, and you shall have your own award from the king of Ulster and from me.” “Why should I not be angry,” said Finnchua, “at your being insulted and at my being insulted over the single grass-field we had? Give your award,” said Finnchua to Comgall. “I shall give it,” said Comgall, “so that you are satisfied.”

¹⁸ Comgall looked at the king, and the king said: “Whatever you ask, you shall have it.” “This is my award,” said Comgall: “the hundred and forty milch cows that are given me by you every year to be given to Finnchua to the end of thirty years after me, and the abbacy of Bennchar, and that it shall go in half shares to him — one half to you and the other half to me.” Finnchua was satisfied with that; and he set the earth down from the king to its place; and Comgall’s hood was wholly burned — from which it is that a hood is not lawful for Comgall’s successor.

¹⁹ These are Finnchua’s three miracles after coming to Bennchar: stones made of the king of Ulster’s horses, and the earth rising round the king to his knees, and his master’s hood burned through the heat of his anger.

²⁰ Comgall stayed in Bennchar then for nine years. And it was revealed to him that his death was near, and messengers went from him for Ailbhe to Imlech Ibhair, that it might be by his hand he should go to heaven. That was revealed to Ailbhe, and he came with his company of clerics to Bennchar. And there the three made their union and their covenant — Ailbhe and Comgall and Finnchua. Comgall went to heaven then by Ailbhe’s hand; and he left Finnchua in the abbacy of Bennchar after him for seven years; and he charged Ailbhe that Finnchua should be ready to come whenever he should call upon him.

²¹ After the seven years were ended, Finnchua was driven out of Bennchar and out of all Ulster through covetousness of land. Then Finnchua came out of Ulster of the north, and came by an angel’s urging to the men of Munster and to their king — Cathal son of Aedh — at Cashel. The king welcomed him and bade him choose his land in Munster. Finnchua said: “No land is granted me save the place where my little bell shall answer me alone, without man’s help.” Cathal said: “Go through Munster till your bell answers you, and the place where it does shall be your without dispute.”

²² Finnchua went on before them from Cashel to the country of the men of Munster — to the western end of Magh Maistertha — and went the length of the plain to see if his bell would answer him; and it answered the next day morning at Fán Muilt. They unyoked their horses there and loosed their herds, and their cattle and flocks spread over the neighbouring lands.

²³ Then complaint and refusal were made to them, and their cattle were cut and their herdsmen beaten. His people complained to Finnchua. Finnchua said to his gillie — Dronán son of Dronbic: “Go to the nearest steading to us here, and bring fire from it.” The gillie went for the fire to the house of the steward of the king of Munster — Baeth Brughae and his wife Sóm daughter of Mothla. The steward asked: “From where have you come for fire?” Said the gillie: “From Finnchua, Comgall’s fosterling.” “Will there be a stay on it?” said the steward. “I know not,” said the gillie, and asked for the fire. The steward through his arrogance gave him a cast of glowing embers. The gillie took them in his breast — and what he had on was Finnchua’s hood. He wrapped the hood about the fire and brought it with him. The steward sent one of his people after the gillie, without his knowledge, to see whether the hood would burn. The gillie put the fire out of his breast in Finnchua’s presence, and neither hair nor thread of the hood was burned. The messenger told that to the steward — that his mind turned to repentance — so that he said he would have given him welcome even had another not been sent.

²⁴ Then the steward and his wife went to speak with the cleric himself, and served him and did him homage and entertained him that night with every food but ale only. It was told to the king of Munster that Finnchua had settled at Fán Muilt between his own fortresses and treasures. The king’s wife was angered at that — Mughain daughter of Fhiachrach Finn, king of the Eoghanacht of Loch Léin. She said that their one steading could not support both Finnchua’s household and hers. The king asked what tribute should be given to the queen and to himself from that land. “No hard matter,” said the steward: “one churn of new milk and its appendage for washing and bathing, and a measure of malt from each of the nine steadings nearest me.” “Let a messenger go from us,” said the king, “to Finnchua, to know whether he accepts that tribute; and if not, let the half go.” Finnchua accepted that tribute and promised to pay it — for it was there that it had been revealed to him his dwelling and his relics and his resurrection on Doomsday should be.

²⁵ Then the steading was marked out by Finnchua — Cúil Muilt — and its sanctuary was ordained and its houses built; and his households were divided among the other nine steadings that were in the king of Munster’s dwelling. And Finnchua lived long in that steading.

²⁶ Then Conaing son of Marcán, king of the Déisi, came to do him homage, and Finnchua gave him his own soul-friend’s jewel and his own place in heaven.

²⁷ Then there were brought to him seven master smiths who were near to him, and they made seven iron sickles for him on which he should live for seven years until he should win his place in heaven — for he had given his own proper place to the king of the Déisi. He blessed the smiths of that steading, and left them the victory of boldness — that their work should prosper, provided it were in that steading they made or began it — and the mastery of craft to one of them. The smiths asked that their name should be upon the steading as the price of their work: Brí Gobhunn (“the Hill of the Smiths”).

²⁸ And Finnchua consumed seven years upon his sickles save a single night. And this is what caused it — Ronán Finn of Maigh Lainde, his mother’s sister’s son, the eldest saint of the men of Brega, came to beseech him to come to the help of the Clann Néill of Niall and of the king of Meath, Sechnusach son of Aedh Sláine; for there was a foreign war from the sea upon them, and it was Finnchua’s part to succour them.

²⁹ And those who made that war were Breasal Bern-bél Buaid-ealtach and Tuire Tortbhuilleach and Tinde Trén-mhor — Britons by their origin. And these are the deeds they used to do every year in the bounds of the southern Uí Néill: to burn the port of every ship, and to raid every tuath, and to take a hostage of every family with them.

³⁰ Then the Clann Néill gave their blessing to whoever should come for Finnchua to the men of Munster for their help. Ronán Finn of Maigh Lainde undertook that service. It was revealed to Finnchua — he being on his sickles — that the eldest saint of the Clann Néill was on the way to him, and he bade his fosterlings make attendance and ministration for those noble messengers. “Give them,” said he, “the mixing-vat of fifty measures of ale, and a meal of a hundred of food; and if that seems little to them, add to it.” The clerics came then and were ministered to as Finnchua had said.

³¹ And Ronán tasted nothing of that food until Finnchua should come from his sickles to speak with him. When it came to Finnchua’s knowledge that Ronán was fasting, he besought the mighty Lord to reveal to him what was right to do — for he was loath to leave his sickles until his full seven years upon them were complete. Then an angel’s spirit came to strengthen Finnchua to go and speak with the other cleric by leave of Jesus Christ.

³² Then Finnchua went at meal-time to speak with Ronán — though he thought it shameful that his body should be seen by anyone at all, pierced through and bored as it was by beetles and beasts; and each of them welcomed the other, and Ronán told Finnchua the errand on which he had come. “I shall be obedient to that errand,” said Finnchua. Then they went forward until they reached the tuatha of Tara.

³³ When the Clann Néill saw the clerics coming to them, so great was their distress that they all rose up to welcome Finnchua. Now the night that Finnchua reached Tara was the very night the marauders came, and they brought the prow of their ships against the southern Clann Néill at Dubhcomar. That was told to the king of Tara and to Finnchua. Then both warrior and cleric arose, and they wheeled right-handwise at Finnchua’s teaching and went before them in a foremost charge until they saw the marauders there.

³⁴ Then the cleric’s nature arose against them, so that balls of red-hot fire burst from his teeth without, and that fire burned the shafts of the spears and scorched and burned the marauders till they were like a close-shorn tuath. “Go,” said Finnchua, “send messengers from you to them to know if they will pay you whole scot for your harrying.” The messengers went to them. They said they would pay them whole scot for ever. Finnchua was enraged by that answer of the foreigners.

³⁵ Then they arose all together against them, both warrior and cleric, and the last evil they wrought upon them was to slay their youths and burn their ships and make a carn of their heads and a mound of their spoils. Thus it was that Finnchua expelled the marauders.

³⁶ And Finnchua was given his own award — Dún Dubchomair with the seven appurtenances that went with it, and a hand-cup of the king with its furniture of red gold, and the giving of it to him every seventh year from the king of Meath. All that was promised to Finnchua; and he then took leave of the Clann Néill and left his blessing with them, and came to his own dwelling afterwards. And that is Finnchua’s succour to the Clann Néill and to the men of Meath, and their tribute to him who holds his place until Doomsday.

³⁷ Finnchua settled then in his own place for a long time.

³⁸ Then a war arose against the Leinstermen in Finnchua’s time. Sen Nuada Eicius was king of Leinster at that time. That king had two wives — Áife daughter of Ros Failge, and Anmet daughter of Colmán son of Crimhthan of the Uí Chennselaig; and she was dearer to the king than the woman of the Failge, and she was pregnant by him. The woman of the Cennselach asked that the pregnancy the woman of Failge bore should be taken as her own. Though the king promised her that, he did not fulfil it.

³⁹ The king sent word secretly to the woman of Failge and told her to go westwards into Munster under Finnchua’s protection — Finnchua of Sliabh Cua — for she had the protection of a month and a quarter and a year from him over every other saint for every person among the men of Ireland, since neither hosts nor multitudes, neither champions nor warriors dared do anything against Finnchua because of the greatness of his nature and the nobleness of his race and the greatness of his might and power.

⁴⁰ Then the girl set out into the bounds of Munster — three men and nine women with their chariots — until they reached the west of Magh Maistertha, when the pole of the girl’s chariot broke; from where Áth in Carpait (“the Ford of the Chariot”) is the name of that ford ever since. The chariot was made fast again, and it parted once more and widened — from which Druim Leathan (“the Broad Ridge”) and Ceall Droma are named today.

⁴¹ Then sharp pangs seized the girl, and it was revealed to Finnchua — he being in a vat of cold water — that the king of Leinster’s wife had come to him for protection. And word was sent out to her not to come into the place where he was until she should bear her pregnancy — for women or females were not custom to come into Finnchua’s church at that time.

⁴² The girl bore a boy at early morn the next day, and he was brought to Finnchua to be baptised. The boy was then baptised and named Findtan — Finntan son of Sen Nuada Eices son of Breasal Bricc son of Fiachach Foibric. The boy was reared by Finnchua, and he gave him his own right breast, so that milk grew in it; and his mother was sent away to her own country. And that boy had the profit that he should not be by his own mother even if there were nine foster-mothers under her.

⁴³ Then the war waxed strong from the west upon Leinster under Cennsealach son of Dúnlaing son of Dúnadhaigh, from whom the Uí Chennselaig are named. Then their men of rank came to Sen Nuada Eiceas to learn what they should do against this war — for he was the eldest druid there. The king said: “There is a warlike soldier at the head of Sliabh Cua — Finnchua of Brí Gobhann — and he has a son of mine, and he will come among my company through love as surely as my son is dear to him; and let a retinue of nine poets go with you for him — for it is in proportion to his honour that he will grant a refusal to the men of art.”

⁴⁴ The poets went on their way until they came near Finnchua’s steading — to the river east of his church. That was revealed to Finnchua, he being in the vat of cold water; and he went to the men of art lest they should come to him while he was bathing. The poets grew angry with him for that, and he grew angry with the poets. Therefore it is not lawful for men of art to come across the river from the east to the steading without leave from that time forth; and it is unlucky for them when they do — from which Sruth na n-Eces (“the Stream of the Poets”) is the name of that river ever since. Therefore also it is not lawful for the king of Leinster to send a messenger of poets from that time forth, and it is unlucky for him who sends him.

⁴⁵ Then the men of art came to Finnchua after his bathing, and said to him: “For yourself we have come from the king of Leinster,” said they, “that you should come to succour him against the war that is upon him.” “I shall go with you,” said Finnchua, “without dispute, and I am not loath to it.” Finnchua went early the next day with his company of clerics, and the king of Leinster’s son with him, and the men of art, until they reached the king at Dún os Berbha. Welcome was given to Finnchua, and the king’s mind was set at rest concerning his son, and he was thankful for the help that had been brought him. He was well attended.

⁴⁶ Finnchua told the king to offer terms of peace to Cennsealach, and if he would not accept them, to proclaim battle against him. Though terms of peace were offered to Cennsealach he would accept nothing but to plunder Dún os Berbha the next day. The cleric’s anger and fury seized him at that, and he would rather that battle should be given at once. Then their battle was arrayed on either side till they were equally close and equally high.

⁴⁷ Finnchua went to the forefront of the battle, and his battle-frenzy and his fury arose, and a wave of daring filled his country and his race at that time; and his feet and hands and eyes turned upon the host of the Cennselaig, so that they could not wound one another against their foes. Then a wave of godliness came upon Finnchua, and he told them to give hostages and sureties to the king of Leinster, and they would not accept that at all.

⁴⁸ The Leinstermen rose all together with the cleric into the battle; and Finnchua spoke these words: “O Leinstermen, follow me,” et reliqua. Then the battle was fought without sparing; and no king’s son was left standing in it save Cennsealach alone, and fifty kings’ sons of them were brought to Dún os Berbha — from which Dinn Rígh is the name of that place ever since.

⁴⁹ When Cennsealach was spared he offered the possession of his children and his race and his posterity to Finnchua, and a hundred of every stock every seventh year to himself and to him who holds his place from the king of Leinster and from the Uí Chennselaig for ever. Finnchua left virtues with the king of Leinster and with the king of the Uí Chennselaig — progeny in their kings and queens, modesty in their daughters, and truth in their men.

⁵⁰ The king of Leinster asked Finnchua to leave Finntan his son with him in his own country, and Finnchua granted him that, and gave his blessing to his fosterling; and he put his fosterling in settlement there, and gave his fosterling his choice between the warrior’s calling and the clerical calling; and the fosterling chose the clerical calling, and land was given him then — Cluain Irarrois, which is called Cluain Eidhnech today; and a third of the circuit of that steading is made to Finnchua for ever.

⁵¹ Those then are the deeds and miracles of Finnchua in Leinster; and he went afterwards to his own dwelling in Munster.

⁵² He who was king over the Ulstermen at that time was Eochu Croibh-derg son of Scannlán son of Dúnadhaigh; and his wife was Moinginn daughter of Daire son of Finnchaid of the men of Munster. And she would not let her husband rest without going into Munster to win kingship for her sons — Cas and Cian and Cingid — and the king undertook it. That was revealed to Finnchua — that it was the Devil’s instigation put into his wife to bring the king of Ulster to come to a battle in Munster without cause. And Finnchua took a step of protection then for his own country, so that he sent messengers to meet the king of Ulster — for he was unwilling that he should be killed in the bounds of Munster in his time; and if he should come over his march he would find death and untimely fate.

⁵³ The Ulstermen came, urged on by the woman, until they reached the great Martine of Munster without the king of Munster’s knowing, and took their station and camp at Ard na Rígraide, which is called Cnoc Samna today. Now it was there that Cathal son of Aedh Flann Cathrach, king of Munster, and Mumu daughter of Fiacrach his wife were at Dún Eochair Mhaighi at that time; and when they arose they saw the semblances at Cnoc na Rígraide facing them from the south — the great intermingled banners and the pavilions of kingly striped satin raised on the hill.

⁵⁴ Messengers went from the king of Munster to learn who was on the hill. “The king of Ulster,” said they, “and Moingfhinn daughter of Daire, seeking the kingship of Munster for her sons.” When that was told to the king of Munster, his counsellors and the nobles of Munster said: “Let us go for that deadly soldier of ours there in the south — Finnchua of Brí Gobann; for he promised me that whenever the stress of battle should be upon me he would come to give battle for my help, and the Cennchathach with him — his own crozier.”

⁵⁵ The messengers went to Finnchua — Ger and Tualaing and Turscur, the king’s three gillies — and told him that the king of Ulster had come over his march into Munster. Finnchua set out then in his chariot at an easy pace, his crozier in his hand, without staying for any clerics at all, until he reached Dún Eochair Maighi, the place where Cathal son of Aedh was. He was welcomed by the royal company. The king told Finnchua to go and offer terms to the Ulstermen — that if he did not desire the kingship of Munster he would not have it.

⁵⁶ The cleric went on that errand, and Moingfhinn recognised him from far away, and told her sons to make a quarrel of mockery — that is, to feign a quarrel so that the cleric should come to part them, and that her sons might kill him; for they feared the cleric would break the battle upon them, and if he were slain the power of the Munstermen would be little to them.

⁵⁷ When Finnchua reached the camp he asked: “Who are those there quarrelling?” “My sons there,” said Moinginn, “quarrelling over the kingship of Munster; go you to part them.” “It is not right,” said Finnchua, “for Moinginn’s sons will be at peace.” But the terms he had come to offer were not accepted by Finnchua, and he went to the king of Ulster, and anger and fury seized him, and he came to the king of Munster and told him that no terms at all had been accepted from him.

⁵⁸ “Make then,” said Finnchua, “whatever strength of battle you can, since you have come to one place.” Then Finnchua went to the forefront of that battle, and the Cenncathach in his hand — his crozier — and he strengthened the counsel and gave force to the battle, and went thrice deiseil-wise round the host with his crozier in his hand; and though the king asked for the crozier in his own hand, Finnchua did not give it him — that the glory of breaking the battle might be his own after him.

⁵⁹ The Ulstermen then arrayed themselves against the Munstermen and took their weapons of battle. They roared and bellowed like stags in a stag-rout, and went up the hill. The cleric pressed the slope against them and yielded them the hill. The Ulstermen bent hard to fight the battle. When Finnchua saw that he entangled them in that position, so that he let them rise no further than their knees at all; and the battle broke against them uphill. And Finnchua left to the Munstermen a rout before them uphill from that time forth for ever against foreigners and against every host besides; and that is fulfilled afterwards.

⁶⁰ The king of Ulster and his wife Moingfhinn with their three sons fell in that battle; and their wonders and their graves are on the hill after them.

⁶¹ Then his three fosterlings came to Finnchua — Coimde and Conmhach and Concraidh — and put their hands on his shoulder, and said to him: “A loss to your kindred, a filling of wilderness, a shunning of land and earth to you is what you have done today; and what you desired to do — your doom-strokes to take from the Ulstermen.” Then the cleric’s mind was set at rest and his nature subsided, and the host was spared, so that they went to their full honour from him.

⁶² Then he turned to the men of Munster, and there met him in their blood: Cairthenn Finn and Cairthenn Donn, and the seven sons of Forannán of the Uí Cassin, and Fermac and Ifernan; and they entreated the cleric for his help, and gave him their own judgement. Then Finnchua turned to them and blessed them, and healed them through his miracles and wonders till they were whole-scarred after it; and they ordained their dues to him — fifty foreign horses from the Uí Toirrdelbaigh, and fifty buffalo horns from the Uí Caisin, and fifty silver bowls from the nobles of the Dál Cais.

⁶³ Then Finnchua came to the king, and his own award was given him: a cow from every fort from the Ard Cnoc — Cnoc Brenuinn — to Dairinis at Imlech; and a cow ever-milking for the cleric who bears his crozier whenever it is borne into battle; and his successor’s rising-up from the king of Munster for ever. Finnchua left his blessing with the royal company and with the men of Munster, and went before them to his own dwelling after the victory of wonders and miracles.

⁶⁴ Then a foreign war arose in the province of Connacht in Finnchua’s time. Tomaltach son of Muiredhach was king of Connacht at that time. For the foreigners used to take their spoils out of it every year eastwards over sea, and had left famine and scarcity of food in the province.

⁶⁵ Messengers went from Tomaltach to Finnchua that he might banish the foreigners from them, and to give him his own award. Finnchua went with the messengers to Cruachain Maige Ai. The Connachtmen were joyful before him. Now the foreigners were encamped in their middle at Cuil Fedha, which is called Cúil Cnam Rois today. “What is it you wish to do to them there?” said Finnchua. “To give them battle,” said the Connachtmen. “I will win the battle for you,” said Finnchua, “for my own award.” The Connachtmen promised him his own award.

⁶⁶ Finnchua went with them to the battle, and saw the foreigners there. Then through the cleric’s powers a very great heat-sweat seized the foreigners in the middle of their camp, from the iron fastenings that were around the camp all about — so that the next day nothing was found of them but their bones and their relics in the middle of their camp, and showers of their weapons beside them: from which Cúil Cnam Rois (“the Corner of the Bone-wood”) is the name of that place ever since.

⁶⁷ Then the Connachtmen established their wonders for the cleric and ordained their tributes and dues to him — a horse from every gentleman, and a screaball from every single man, and the full clothing of the king of Connacht from top to bottom every year for him.

⁶⁸ Then Finnchua left the victory of battle with the king of Connacht, and the victory of deed and the victory of horsemanship; and that no foreign host should take the bounds of Connacht for ever after him — so that that is Finnchua’s cause in Connacht for ever. Finnchua then took leave of the Connachtmen, and came to his own dwelling among the men of Munster.

⁶⁹ He who was king of the Ciarraige at that time was Mothla son of Flonn son of Aenghus. He had a brother’s son — Ciar Cuircheach, from whom the Ciarraige Cuircheach are named. And the king’s foster-brothers said they would kill that son of his brother so that he should not succeed him; and the king consented to his being killed in the open while he was hunting.

⁷⁰ But they could not compass it, though they undertook it. It was told to the king; and a draught of drugged sleep was given to the youth — Ciar Cuircheach — so that he was put to sleep, and he was put into a one-benched currach on the sea; and a wind bore him to Inis Fuamnaighe, where Magor Dub-loingsech of the foreigners was.

⁷¹ Ciar Cuircheach was taken by him in the currach, and told his adventures to Magor; and Magor enslaved him when he heard his tales — and this was the price of salvation he demanded of him: that he should guide him to the country from which he had come, that he might plunder it; for he had neither grain nor tillage in his own island at all. Then they went into the Ciarraige for three autumns, and carried off its grain from it in their ships after plundering it — so that a great famine arose in all the Ciarraige from that.

⁷² Mothla son of Flainn said: “Let us go for our stock-brother — Finnchua of Sliabh Cua — that he may succour us as he succours everyone.” The messengers came westwards to Finnchua and told him their errand.

⁷³ Finnchua went into the Ciarraige then to succour his own stock-kindred; and that was the very night the marauders came into the land and landed at Findtracht Cinn Maghair. The king asked Finnchua what they should do against them. Finnchua asked the king what ill they used to do every year in the land. “They leave not,” said the king, “a little of grain in the country after them.” “Let a scattering be made for them,” said Finnchua, “till their loads are upon them; and let us go on the strand after them — and I am content that they should not see us until they come to us.”

⁷⁴ It was not long then until they saw them coming towards them on the strand with their loads upon them. Then the cleric’s battle-frenzy and his fury arose — like waves of dark-red blood or like the rolling of the sea against land. Such was the speed and the vehemence wherewith Finnchua went into his kinsmen’s battle that day through love, that the wonders and powers of God were exalted and magnified as a royal ship’s mast over the wave-crest through the saint’s prayer against the foreigners that day — so that the waves of Ireland rose with him. Such was the savage might and the rending fury that seized him in his war-gear that day — were there no warriors fighting the battle but himself alone, he would have broken it; for it is the same to him whether he cut the foreigners through their arms or through their teeth. From where Finnchua was sated of them that day — as it were a hound.

⁷⁵ And the host of the Ciarraige put all their trust then in his valour and his prowess; so that none of the foreigners escaped without being taken or killed save Ciar Cuircheach alone — and it was Finnchua who spared him. That deed was celebrated by them then, and the miracles of God and of Finnchua were magnified — that the foreigners took not power without their own country save when Finnchua was remembered in the giving of the battle, and its being given in the name of God and of Finnchua; and his tribute to him who holds his place after him.

⁷⁶ The king said to him: “Take your award, O cleric, and strike your tribute-stroke upon us this once; for we shall be your own clients and your successor’s for ever.” “This is my award,” said Finnchua: “a sack of malt from every steading for me, with its appendage of food every year.” They agreed to that.

⁷⁷ Then the king said that Ciar Cuircheach should not get welcome from him — and he allowed Finnchua to take him with him. Ciar Cuircheach then went with Finnchua — thirty of them: the friends and foster-brothers he had found in the land. Finnchua then took leave of the king and the royal company and left his blessing with them, and went to his own dwelling. And he put Ciar into the Ciarraige Cuircheach — from which it is named after him. And thirty boars yearly are due to Finnchua from the Ciarraige Cuircheach.

⁷⁸ Then in Finnchua’s time the northern Clann Néill came to take the kingship of Munster; for they had heard that the land was empty, and that Leth Mogha had been left to them without its kings and its lords, with no rightful king over them.

⁷⁹ Then they took a camp at Loch Sighleann — in Gort Clainni Néill today — and they were not hindered; for there was no high king over Munster at that time, only co-ordinate sub-kings.

⁸⁰ But the men of Munster trusted in their saints for victory over the Clann Néill — for they had no men to seek battle against them. Now they had a king’s son at that time — Scannal son of the king of Ua Cairbre. He was a noble scion of the seed of Eoghan, and he said that seven saints would come to fight the battle — provided there were one warrior of the Clann Eogain before them who was a king’s son or a royal heir.

⁸¹ It was told to the men of Munster that there was a brave man in Munster — Cairbre Crom son of Crimthan Sreib son of Echach son of Aenghus son of Nat Fraech; and he was a king’s and a queen’s son, and fit to be king if tuatha and families should make him king. And they were told he was hunting in the thickets and wastes and woods — on pigs and deer; and messengers went from them for him, and told him they would give him the kingship for coming with them to battle.

⁸² He said to them that he would not go until the brave soldier who was in Munster should come with him — Finnchua of Sliabh Cua. That word was brought to those saints, and they went for Finnchua, the nobles of Munster with them, to bring him to the battle.

⁸³ “Who,” said Finnchua, “are those who have undertaken the battle? They have no strength at all until you should be bringing it with them along with Scannal.” “I have thought of it,” said Finnchua, “though it irks me.” And he went with them until they reached Loch Silenn, to the assembly of Munster.

⁸⁴ And Cairbre Crom came to meet them with his company as he had promised, when he heard that Finnchua had come. And they saw the Clann Néill there rising early in the morning in their camp in their many-coloured vast array.

⁸⁵ The men of Munster shrank from the battle for horror of the Clann Néill and for the number of their warriors and their equipment — all save Finnchua alone. And Finnchua counselled the men of Munster, and said that no place of their land would be given up if it were shrinking they made. The men of Munster said: “The Clann Néill are three times our number.” Finnchua said that their excess should be so dealt that they might be even-numbered — and that each should then kill the man facing him.

⁸⁶ However, Finnchua and Cairbre Crom pressed and strengthened the men of Munster to the battle — for Cairbre was not to be avoided. The men of Munster then consented to the battle through honour and through the strengthening of Finnchua and Cairbre.

⁸⁷ Then the Clann Néill arrayed themselves for the battle, and came to meet the men of Munster fiercely and madly — a grove of their weapons over their heads and a wild expanse of their shields about them. The men of Munster arose against them then, their saints with them; and though the Clann Néill were many, the battle was routed upon them through the strength of saints and champions. The rout was followed, and many of them were beheaded, and their heads were gathered into one place and cast into Loch Silenn — which is called Loch Cenn (“the Lake of Heads”) today.

⁸⁸ And Cairbre Crom son of Crimthan was made king over Munster. And Finnchua besought God to give him a fair form — for his make was ugly — and Finnchua got from God his choice of form for him: so that he was called Cairbre Caem (“Cairbre the Fair”) ever after, from the change of shape and hue. In Cill Crom-ghlaise that Cairbre was reared by Sceallán Cael — from where “Cairbre Crom” clove to him, as it was said:

⁸⁹ He was straight from head to foot,
though he was called Cairbre Crom (“the Bent”):
from there he got the name indeed
from his fostering in Cromglais.

⁹⁰ Finnchua then blessed the men of Munster and the king of Cashel — Cairbre with his seed. And the king made a covenant with Finnchua for himself and for his seed: victory of battle for the Clann Cairbre when they should give the name of God and of Finnchua — or one of his relics — going into battle, and they should have the victory. And Finnchua promised that he would not fight a battle from that time forth.

⁹¹ The men of Munster ordained then Finnchua’s tribute upon them: the first calf and the first lamb and the first pigling to Finnchua and to him who holds his place from the men of Munster; and the keeping of his place over the Clann Cairbre for ever; and an alms from every nose of the men of Munster to him who holds his place; and their prayer to him in the time of need — and he would pray to God for the seed of Cairbre and of Cathal to help them truly.

⁹² Finnchua went then to his own dwelling; and afterwards he went to Rome — for he repented of the battles he had fought and the deeds he had done out of fellowship and brotherly love. And he sang these stanzas below:

⁹³ Seven battles have I fought —
I am Finnchua, without shame —
from the battle of Dún Dubchomair
to the battle of Findtracht Cinn Maghair.

⁹⁴ A battle at Tara I fought,
a battle in Leinster with my devotion,
a battle in mid-Munster —
I gave it without peril.

⁹⁵ The battle of Loch Cenn, most warlike,
over the Clann Néill without shame,
the battle of Cruachan Aí, far-renowned —
it is I who won it.

⁹⁶ My friendship with the men of Munster
by mac Aedha, through my miracles;
my battles to be remembered —
fitting to number them as seven.

⁹⁷ To Rome of Latium my pilgrimage,
on the way of Paul and Peter;
in the monastery of Brónach’s son —
Buidhe mac Bronaigh —
I am numbered in his companies.

⁹⁸ Those then are the deeds and the birth of Finnchua, and his battles and his fights and his journeys — from the time he spoke in his mother’s womb until he went to Rome of Latium; and he remained for a year’s time there in penitence, as he himself wrote in the Book of the Monastery of Buidhe mac Bronaigh.

Finit re Fionnchua — Here ends the Life of Finnchua.