History of the Ilen

The Ilen River

From the mountain top, my place of birth, I hurriedly come sweeping
O’ Donovan’s Castle underneath is o’er me vigil keeping:

Between huge barriers of stone I’m next compelled to dally,

Then on I rush by blossomed gorse, hawthorn bush and sally.

I steal by cliffs o’ergrown with Larch, round boulders I go swerving,

With cool and pleasant beverage am thirsty oxen serving,

Past beauteous grove and sunny slope and moorland soon I’m flowing.

And mighty bridges ever are my ripple back echoing.

Many a rivulet and rill to me its way is makin’,

And never by Kingfishers are my mossy banks forsaken:

My voice I hush as slowly I by Caheragh go creeping,

With due regard for the noble dead who there in peace are sleeping.

Now seaward through majestic woods my course I am pursuin’,

By town and shady cemetery with hoary Abbey ruin:

The poet that sights we in his dreams, may he be That Giver

And Lord of All most pleasing me, is the wish of the Ilen River.

TIMOTHY MacCARTHY-COLLINS

Derrigrea East, Drimoleague

Published in the Southern Star on July 10th 1937