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6/30/21 Dinnseanchas: Indigeny of Language

>>>Consider utilizing Logainm.ie to find the meanings of Irish place-names that might has significance to your travels in Ireland, to your ancestry, etc.<<<

explains the meaning of the name Emain Macha (Navan, Co. Armagh), and later is referenced in the Táin Bó Cuailnge (Cattle Raid of Cooley). This story shows that Macha, as goddess of the land and sovereignty, was vengeful when disrespected, and how the rule of a bad king leads to disaster.

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The story of Abhainn a’ Scáil (Annascaul–the river of Scál or the crossing of Scál) was related to me when traveling through the peninsula of Dingle. There is a scenic lake situated in a gorge to the north of the village in which are strewn wildly shaped boulders. Legend tells of Cúchulainn battling a giant there by throwing great boulders at each other for over a week. Cúchalainn had come to the aid of a woman ‘Scál Ní Mhurnáin’ who lived by the lake and was threatened by the giant. Cairns on nearby Dromavally peaks are known as the bed, house and grave of Cúchulainn.

Here’s a poem I wrote about it around 2002ish (BE KIND, I WAS A KID!):

 

There is a fountain that runs through Annascaul

From where pours liquid myths—

Milk from the paps of the mountains

Down slopes a million colors of brilliant;

Flows whisperings of the tragedies of lore—

Fair Scál long, long ago.

And here nestled in her pearly breast

As a traveler the story I heard

Again and again:

 

One far too beautiful Scál

Bathing within a mountain glen

Away from the eyes of all men

Save one giant without name or shape in my mind,

Who spies her pale cream form rippling the lake.

Hiding away his atrocities in those mountains

Cat-calls her to a stony bed—

Threats of rape after from his famine lust.

 

Her throat like ripping sheets cries Champion—

Hound of Ulster appearing in the flesh,

In a flash, a breath—gae bolga in hand

Cúchulainn contends the giant to scorn, Scál forgotten.

And like pebbles these supernaturals toss boulders at will

Among the mountains of Kerry—awakened by this ferocity.

 

Éiru shakes with fear and dread

As Culann’s hound is pebble struck down.

Scáll seems prize once more to giant lust,

Demi-god knocked dumb, not dead, by his hand.

Yet Scál shamed, defiant, refusing defeat

Drowns within the glen’s lake icy deep

 

Its waters heaving, churning in sorrow

Her fair memory bright in its still reflection

Overflows with the tears of a clear fountain—

A stream renting the mountain’s slope.

Abhainn a’ Scáil, the fair maiden lives

Forever among the mountains of Dingle;

Where the flowing waters whisper her name.