Tír Na nÓg
By Kelly Grettler
You may have heard of Peter Pan’s adventures down in Neverland
but what you may not understand- this Celtic tale is far more grand.
Try and picture if you can, a place outside the realm of man,
regaled among the Irish clan, here’s how the legend first began:
For many, many years ago, amidst the hills of green
there lived a handsome warrior who called himself Oisín.
‘Twas one day while exploring, young Oisín saw quite the sight:
A radiant young beauty up atop a mare of white.
Her hair was like the sunset mixed with copper, gold, and fire…
Oisín fell deep in love with her- enraptured with desire.
She said “my name is Niamh, and I’m the daughter of a King,
come with me and you will see the best that life can bring.”
He bid farewell to those he loved and climbed up on the mare,
and with a bit of magic they would disappear from there.
They rode across the wild sea, then through a misty fog,
then to a most enchanted land that’s known as Tír Na nÓg.
A place where there’s no suffering, no sadness to be found,
no illness, death, or aging- only joyfulness abound.
Seasons came and seasons went but time itself forestalled,
while the two of them lived out their lives euphoric, and enthralled.
His memories of home remained- a yearning that did call
upon his heart to travel back and see them one and all.
While Niamh did seem to hesitate, she finally let him go
because she knew his heart could not be full if it weren’t so.
She warned him not to touch the soil, or stones, while over there
then called “Godspeed” to young Oisín as he rode off on the mare.
He travelled through the misty fog, and back across the sea,
and onward to the country where his loved ones used to be.
While time stood still on Tír Na nÓg, back home it was a thief:
Upon returning Oisín found himself soon struck with grief.
It seems 300 years, or so, had passed since that one day
that Oisín bid his life farewell and travelled far away.
The land remained but gone were all the people that he’d known,
the village, church, and cottage Oisín once had called his home.
‘Twas near a crumbling castle wall, its grounds now overgrown,
atop his resting, weary mare, he bowed his head and moaned.
Oisín thought of Niamh, and all the heartache he’d been through,
and decided to return to her- the only love he knew.
Before he’d leave for Tír Na nÓg, with one thing left to do,
he’d bring a piece of Ireland, perhaps a stone, or two…
He stretched to reach, just out of grasp, the perfect little rock
but somehow lost his balance, which then caused Oisín to drop.
Some men nearby would hear the cries of panic and distress,
but nothing could prepare them all for what transpired next.
The mare, without her rider, rushed away into the sea
racing back to Tír Na nÓg and her beloved, Niamh.
Amazed, the men were certain that it must be sorcery
as the one who lay before them, had just aged three centuries.
Unsure of how to help the man, they carried him away
and brought him to St. Patrick on that otherworldly day.
Oisín, who knew his time was short, in whispers, would regale
to St. Patrick and the men, that day, his most amazing tale.
He told them of his journey, and his life across the sea,
the magic land of Tír Na nÓg and his lifelong love, sweet Niamh.
With that, he lay his weary head, and let out one last sigh,
then Oisín would close his eyes that day and bid the world goodbye.
Years come and go, and so they say, on certain foggy nights
or when the moon is full, and shining luminous, and bright,
some people say, that in the waves, they’ve seen a horse of white,
with a red-haired maiden rider: an entrancing, mystic sight.
She roams the countryside in search of her Oisín,
which has now become a legend on the Isle of Emerald Green.
Oisín (pronounced O-Sheen)
Niamh (pronounced Neev)
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