There Was Some Trouble, I Believe, About The Building Of
A Causeway Across To Some Sacred Island, Which Was Built By The People
Without Leave Asked, Or In Spite Of Prohibition Given; But In The Main I
Think That Lord Ardilaun Is Very Much Loved.
How it does rain in this green land.
I think it rained every day of the
days I remained at Cong except the blink of sunshine that shone on the
castle and grounds the day that I went over part of the Ashford
_demesne_.
At Cong, for the first time in my life, I heard the Irish lament or
caoine for the dead. Some one was brought in from the country to be
buried in the Abbey of Cong. It was a simple country funeral. The dead
was borne on one of the carts of the country, followed by the neighbors,
and accompanied by the parish priest of Cong. The day was very wet even
for Ireland. After the burial service was over the women, kneeling by
the new made grave, among the rank wet grass, and the dripping ivy,
raised the caoine. It was a most unearthly sound, sweet like singing,
sad like crying, rising up among the ruined towers, and clinging ivy and
floating up heavenwards. I believe the stories of banshees must have
arisen from the sound of the caoine. These mourning women were very
skilful, I was told, and were relations of the dead whom they mourned,
and whose good qualities mingled with their love and grief rose in
wailing cry and floated weirdly over the ruins and up to the clouds.
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