The coming of the Norsemen

The coming of the Norsemen

Lough Derg--History--Middle Ages--Norse

"One soft autumn noon, the lough lay in a haze of golden mist. Behind the eastern clouds the sun puffed out some streaks of red, angry and livid in their broken setting, but softened and mellow ere they reached the hillsides of Ireland or rested on far-off little flakes of dreamy cloud..."

Shane Leslie, 1885-1971

Leslie, Shane, Lough Derg in Ulster : The Story of St. Patrick’s Purgatory, pp. 37-38

Maunsel, Dublin

1909

Digitised by archive.org, sponsored by University of California Libraries

Public domain

Monograph

English

Religious History

Text

DD_0022

54.6153, -7.8864

https://archive.org/details/loughderginulste00lesliala/page/2

"One soft autumn noon, the lough lay in a haze of golden mist. Behind the eastern clouds the sun puffed out some streaks of red, angry and livid in their broken setting, but softened and mellow ere they reached the hillsides of Ireland or rested on far-off little flakes of dreamy cloud. It was then that a group of strange men were seen on the lough shore. They were clad in heavy skins, fastened over their shoulders with great belts of gold. Though they shouted loudly towards the monastery, the holy brethren thought well to discipline any idle curiosity, and betook themselves more than carefully to their different tasks.

The Danesmen, for such they were, shouted all the more, till, finding the islanders were deaf as well as blind, they turned to search for such boats as they had been accustomed to find on the Irish loughs. After some trouble they found a few narrow pieces of craft, which they launched and paddled rapidly to the island. Above the plash of their heavy oars rose the angry song of the sword, first but a whisper, then a wail that ended with a terrible melody that shot the beating blood through their heads. It was the song that few ever heard and lived to tell, the war-song the Danesmen had sung in every sea save their own. The boats crashed into the rocks, and the strangers leapt into the shallows and mounted the slopes of the island. At the sight of the poor wattled huts the children of Wodan and Thor laughed long and bitterly. It seemed a poor business to come across that length of country to set fire to these old huts and to feed their swords with a few old men. Nevertheless, slaying was good for its own sake and the land was well ridded of these hoarse singers of psalms." (pp. 37-38)

Monograph