Lore of the Great Trees
Mag Mugna
Mugna, my sister's son of the glorious wood,
God fashioned it long ago,
A tree blest with various virtues,
with three choice fruits.
The acorn, and the dark narrow nut,
and the apple-it was a goodly wilding-
the King sent by rule
on it thrice a year.
The tree of Munga, great was the trunk,
thirty cubits its girth, conspicuous in sight of all the place where it stood,
three hundred cubits was its height.
Then was the bright plant laid low,
when a blast broke Tortu's Bole;
He makes transient every combat,
like the long-lived tree of ancient Mugna.
Eo Munga
Eo Munga, great was the fair tree,
high its top above the rest;
thirty cubits-it was no trifle-
that was the measure of its girth.
Three hundred cubits was the height of the blameless tree
its shadow sheltered a thousand:
in secrecy it remailned in the north and east
til the time of Conn and the Hundred Fights.
A hundred score of warriors-no empty tale-
along with ten hundred and fourty
would that tree shelter-it was a fierce struggle-
til it was overthrown by the poets.
Eo Rossa, Eo Munga
How fell the Bough of Dathi?
it spent the strength of many a gentle hireling:
an ash, the tree of nimble hosts,
its top bore no lasting yield.
The Ash in Tortu-take count thereof!
the Ash of populus Usnech.
their boughs fell-it was not amiss-
in the time of the sons of Aed Slane.
The Oak of Munga, it was a hallowed treasure;
nine hundred bushels was its bountiful yield:
it fell in Dairbre southward,
across Mag Ailbe of the cruel combats.
The Bole of Ross, a comely yew
with abundance of broad timber,
the tree without hollow or flaw,
the stately bole, how did it fall?
