The Irish Fairy Book

Alfred Perceval Graves, George Denham, George Denham

• Publisher: Dover Publications
• Year: 2013
• eBook ISBN: 9780486148212
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Folklore & Mythology
• Index: Social Sciences

Leprechauns, fairies, and other mythical figures inhabit this entertaining collection of Irish fairy lore. The rich and representative collection of 43 tales and poems includes "The Stolen Child," a beguiling poem by William Butler Yeats; "The King of the Black Desert," by poet, scholar, and statesman Douglas Hyde; Lady Jane Wilde's "The Horned Women" and "The Demon Cat," as well as works by Joseph Campbell, Jeremiah Curtin, Alfred Lord Tennyson, Patrick Kennedy, and other distinguished writers.
A valuable resource for students of Celtic lore, The Irish Fairy Book offers hours of enchanted reading for lovers of folktales.

The King of the Black Desert

This story was told by one Laurence O‘Flynn from near Swinford, in the County Mayo, to my friend, the late F. O’Conor, of Athlone, from whom I got it in Irish. It is the eleventh story in the “Sgeuluidhe Gaodhalach,” and is here for the first time literally translated into English.

AN CHRAOIBHIN AOIBHINN.

WHEN O’Conor was King over Ireland he was living in Rathcroghan, of Connacht. He had one son, but he, when he grew up, was wild, and the King could not control him, because he would have his own will in everything.

One morning he went out—

His hound at his foot,
And his hawk on his hand,
And his fine black horse to bear him—

and he went forward, singing a verse of a song to himself, until he came as far as a big bush that was growing on the brink of a glen. There was a grey old man sitting at the foot of the bush, and he said, “King’s son, if you are able to play as well as you are able to sing songs, I would like to play a game with you.” The King’s son thought that it was a silly old man that was in it, and he alighted, threw bridle over branch, and sat down by the side of the grey old man.

The old man drew out a pack of cards and asked, “Can you play these ?”

“I can,” said the King’s son.

“What shall we play for ?” said the grey old man.

“Anything you wish,” says the King’s son.

“All right; if I win you must do for me anything I shall ask of you, and if you win I must do for you anything you ask of me,” says the grey old man.

“I’m satisfied,” says the King’s son.

THEY played the game, and the King’s son beat the grey old man. Then he said, “What would you like me to do for you, King’s son?”

“I won’t ask you to do anything for me,” says the King’s son. “I think that you are not able to do much.”

“Don’t mind that,” said the old man. “You must ask me to do something. I never lost a bet yet that I wasn’t able to pay it.”

As I said, the King’s son thought that it was a silly old man that was in it, and to satisfy him he said to him, “Take the head off my stepmother and put a goat’s head on her for a week.”

“I’ll do that for you,” said the grey old man.

The King’s son went a-riding on his horse—

His hound at his foot,
His hawk on his hand—

and he faced for another place, and never thought more about the grey old man until he came home.

He found a cry and great grief in the castle. The servants told him that an enchanter had come into the room where the Queen was, and had put a goat’s head on her in place of her own head.

“By my hand, but that’s a wonderful thing,” says the King’s son. “If I had been at home I’d have whipt the head off him with my sword.”

There was great grief on the King, and he sent for a wise councillor, and asked him did he know how the thing happened to the Queen.

“Indeed, I cannot tell you that,” said he; “it’s a work of enchantment.

The King’s son did not let on that he had any knowledge of the matter, but on the morrow morning he went out—

His hound at his foot,
His hawk on his hand,
And his fine black horse to hear him—

and he never drew rein until he came as far as the big bush on the brink of the glen. The grey old man was sitting there under the bush, and said, “King’s son, will you have a game to-day?” The King’s son got down and said, “I will.” With that he threw bridle over branch and sat down by the side of the old man. He drew out the cards and asked the King’s son did he get the thing he had won yesterday.

“That’s all right,” said the King’s son.

“We’ll play for the same bet to-day,” says the grey old man.

“I’m satisfied,” said the King’s son.

They played—the King’s son won. “What would you like me to do for you this time?” says the grey old man. The King’s son thought and said to himself, “I’ll give him a hard job this time.” Then he said, “There’s a field of seven acres at the back of my father’s castle; let it be filled to-morrow morning with cows, and no two of them to be of one colour, or one height, or one age.”

“That shall be done,” says the grey old man.

The King’s son went riding on his horse—

His hound at his foot,
His hawk on his hand—

and faced for home. The King was sorrowful about the Queen; there were doctors out of every place in Ireland, but they could not do her any good.

ON the morning of the next day the King’s herd went out early, and he saw the field at the back of the castle filled with cows, and no two of them of the same colour, the same age, or the same height. He went in and told the King the wonderful news. “Go and drive them out,” says the King. The herd got men, and went with them driving out the cows, but no sooner would he put them out on one side than they would come in on the other. The herd went to the King again, and told him that all the men that were in Ireland would not be able to put out these cows that were in the field. “They’re enchanted cows,” said the King.

When the King’s son saw the cows, he said to himself, “I’ll have another game with the grey old man to-day !” That morning he went out—

His hound at his foot,
His hawk on his hand,
And his fine black horse to bear him—

and he never drew rein till he came as far as the big bush on the brink of the glen. The grey old man was there before him, and asked him would he have a game of cards.

“I will,” says the King’s son; “but you know well that I can beat you playing cards.”

“We’ll have another game, then,” says the grey old man. “Did you ever play ball ?”

“I did, indeed,” said the King’s son; “but I think that you are too old to play ball, and, besides that, we have no place here to play it.”

“If you’re contented to play, I’ll find a place,” says the grey old man.

“I’m contented,” says the King’s son.

“Follow me,” says the grey old man.

THE King’s son followed him through the glen until he came to a fine green hill. There he drew out a little enchanted rod, spoke some words which the King’s son did not understand, and after a moment the hill opened and the two went in, and they passed through a number of splendid halls until they came out into a garden. There was everything finer than another in that garden, and at the bottom of the garden there was a place for playing ball. They threw up a piece of silver to see who would have hand-in, and the grey old man got it.

They began then, and the grey old man never stopped until he won out the game. The King’s son did not know what he would do. At last he asked the old man what would he desire him to do for him.

“I am King over the Black Desert, and you must find out myself and my dwelling-place within a year and a day, or I shall find you out and you shall lose your head.”

Then he brought the King’s son out the same way by which he went in. The green hill closed behind them, and the grey old man disappeared out of sight.

The King’s son went home, riding on his horse—

His hound at his foot,
His hawk on his hand—

and he sorrowful enough.

THAT evening the King observed that there was grief and great trouble on his young son, and when he went to sleep the King and every person that was in the castle heard heavy sighings and ravings from him. The King was in grief—a goat’s head to be on the Queen—but he was seven times worse when they told him the (whole) story how it happened from beginning to end.

He sent for a wise councillor, and asked him did he know where the King of the Black Desert was living.

“I do not, indeed,” said he; “but as sure as there’s a tail on the cat, unless the young heir finds out that enchanter he will lose his head.”

There was great grief that day in the castle of the King. There was a goat’s head on the Queen, and the King’s son was going searching for an enchanter, without knowing whether he would ever come back.

After a week the goat’s head was taken off the Queen, and her own head was put upon her. When she heard of how the goat’s head was put upon her, a great hate came upon her against the King’s son, and she said “that he may never come back, alive or dead.”

Of a Monday morning he left his blessing with his father and his kindred; his travelling bag was bound upon his shoulder, and he went—

His hound at his foot,
His hawk on his hand,
And his fine black horse to bear him.

He walked that day until the sun was gone beneath the shadow of the hills and till the darkness of the night was coming, without knowing where he could get lodgings. He noticed a large wood on his left-hand side, and he drew towards it as quickly as he could, hoping to spend the night under the shelter of the trees. He sat down at the foot of a large oak tree, and opened his travelling bag to take some food and drink, when he saw a great eagle coming towards him.

“Do not be afraid of me, King’s son; I know you—you are the son of O’Conor, King of Ireland. I am a friend, and if you give me your horse to give to eat to four hungry birds that I have, I shall bear you farther than your horse would bear you, and, perhaps, I would put you on the track of him you are looking for.”

“You can have the horse, and welcome,” says the King’s son, “although I’m sorrowful at parting from him.”

“All right, I shall be here to-morrow at sunrise.” With that she opened her great gob, caught hold of the horse, struck in his two sides against one another, took wing, and disappeared out of sight.

The King’s son ate and drank his enough, put his travelling bag under his head, and it was not long till he was asleep, and he never awoke till the eagle came and said, “It is time for us to be going; there is a long journey before us. Take hold of your bag and leap up upon my back.”

“But to my grief,” says he, “I must part from my hound and my hawk.”

“Do not be grieved,” says she; “they will be here before you when you come back.”

Then he leaped up on her back. She took wing, and off and away with her through the air. She brought him across hills and hollows, over a great sea, and over woods, till he thought that he was at the end of the world. When the sun was going under the shadow of the hills, she came to earth in the midst of a great desert, and said to him, “Follow the path on your right-hand side, and it will bring you to the house of a friend. I must return again to provide for my birds.”

He followed the path, and it was not long till he came to the house, and he went in. There was a grey old man sitting in the corner. He rose and said, “A hundred thousand welcomes to you, King’s son, from Rathcroghan of Connacht.”

“I have no knowledge of you,” said the King’s son.

“I was acquainted with your grandfather,” said the grey old man. “Sit down; no doubt there is hunger and thirst on you.”

“I’m not free from them,” said the King’s son.

The old man then smote his two palms against one another, and two servants came and laid a board with beef, mutton, pork, and plenty of bread before the King’s son, and the old man said to him:

“EAT and drink your enough. Perhaps it may be a long time before you get the like again.”

He ate and drank as much as he desired, and thanked him for it.

Then the old man said, “You are going seeking for the King of the Black Desert. Go to sleep now, and I will go through my books to see if I can find out the dwelling-place of that King.” Then he smote his palms together, and a servant came, and he told him, “Take the King’s son to his chamber.” He took him to a fine chamber, and it was not long till he fell asleep.

On the morning of the next day the old man came and said,

“Rise up, there is a long journey before you. You must do five hundred miles before midday.”

“I could not do it,” said the King’s son.

“If you are a good rider I will give you a horse that will bring you over the journey.”

“I will do as you say,” said the King’s son.

The old man gave him plenty to eat and to drink, and, when he was satisfied, he gave him a little white garron, and said, “Give the garron his head, and when he stops look up into the air, and you will see three swans as white as snow. Those are the three daughters of the King of the Black Desert. There will be a green napkin in the mouth of one of them: that is the youngest daughter, and there is not anyone alive except her who could bring you to the house of the King of the Black Desert. When the garron stops you will be near a lake. The three swans will come to land on the brink of that lake, and they will make ...

Table of contents

• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Table of Contents
• preface
• The Coming of Finn
• The Three Crowns
• The Grateful Beasts
• The Lepracaun or Fairy Shoemaker
• Daniel O’Roucke
• CUCHULAIN OF MUIRCHEMNE
• The Bophood of Cuchulain
• The Legend of knockgrafton
• The Stolen Child
• Lay of Oisin on the Land of Youth
• Adventures of Gilla na Chreck an Gour
• The hill-man and the housewife
• The Giant Walker
• The pursuit of the Gilla Dacker
• Jamie Freel and the Young Lady
• A Legend of Knockmany
• A Legend of Knockmany
• The Ninepenny Fidil
• The festivities at the house of Conan of Crann Sleibhe
• The White Trout
• The wonderful Cake
• The legend of the little Weaver of Duleek Gate
• Mor of Cloyne
• Lawn Dyarrig and the Knight of Terrible Valley
• The horned Women
• The Quare Gander
• The Hairies Passage
• The King of the Black Desert
• The piper and the puca
• The Fairy Changeling
• The talking head of Donn-bo
• THE BRACKET BULL
• The Demon Cat
• The Abbot of Inisfalen
• Morraha
• The Kildare Pooka
• The King’s Son
• Murtough and the Witch Woman
• The Red Pony
• King O’Toole and St. Kevin
• Lament of the last Leprechaun
• The Corpse Watchers
• The Mad Pudding of Ballyboulteen
• The voyage of Maeldune
• A Faery Song