Leabhar Phádraig Uí Mreinn (1827)
Created in Ireland and carried by the scribe to Saint-Malachie, Québec.
Manuscript detail: “Patrick Ryan [Pádraig Ó Mreinn] Quebec Canada North America”
Discover the illuminated manuscript of Pádraig Ó Mreinn as it reveals his emigration from his native Tipperary, where he had meticulously crafted his cherished Gaelic manuscript. Fleeing the adversities of Ireland in 1827, Pádraig embarked on a poignant journey to Canada, carrying with him his hastily bound manuscript.
As Pádraig found his way to Québec and settled there in Saint-Malachie, his manuscript recalled the rural west of Ireland and remained a tangible link to his own distant youth. Immersed in the culture of Ireland’s rural west, Pádraig created a unique personal collection of pieces curated from sources available around him. In it we find his careful rendition of Mac Curtain’s 1728 Irish grammar, hymns from the 1802 “Pious Miscellany” of Tadhg Gaelach Ó Súilleabháin, and the epic 1659 poem “Tuiream na hÉireann,” which orally related the history of Ireland from the biblical flood until the Cromwellian invasions. Also present are pieces that speak to emigration, including the poem Slán le Éire (Farewell to Ireland), and the folksong “Maidin cheoch nuair d’éirigh mé ‘s do bhuail mé i measc na coillte” (A foggy morning when I awoke and struck out into the forest), unintentionally fitting for the Canadian backwoods.
Now resting with the National Library of Ireland, Leabhar Phádraig Uí Mhreinn invites us to celebrate the cultural richness it transferred to Canada within its 220 pages.
The manuscript is very complex, with items written backwards through the text, skipping pages, with notations and calculations, and with numerous errors. There is also a very large amount of material, copied by Ó Mreinn from contemporary print sources. To expand the understanding of what this manuscript contains, and to explore some of the knowledge Irish emigrants carried with them, the following is the beginning stanzas of each Irish item in Pádraig Ó Mreinn’s manuscript, drawn from more standardized print copies:
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The Lamentation of Ireland / The Essay of Seán Ó Conaill. 123 stanzas, Lch. 1-23. A history of Ireland from the Book of Invasions until Cromwell, composed in 1695 for oral recitation.
An uair a smaoiním ar shaoithibh na hÉireann,
Scrios na dtíortha is díth na cléire,
Díothú na ndaoine is leá a ngréithe,
Bí mo chroí-se im’ chliabh á réabadh.
When I think on the nobles of Ireland
The devastation of the lands, and the lack of the clergy
The destruction of the people, and the melting of her wealth
My heart in my breast is rending
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Patrick’s Hymn (Mairinn Phádraig). Lch. 23-24. Ó Mreinn noted that this was said early in the morning while going fishing, or three times at the time of death
Cloistear fonn fial Eithne
insa chill is glaise buaine braon
tar éis na Gréige
Níl bású go dtí slua Aonaois…
The generous will of Eithne is heard
In the churchyard most enduringly green [braon?]
After Greece
There is no dying until the assembly of eternity…
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The Incantation of Holy Mary. Lch. 25-26. Ó Mreinn noted that Holy Mary would show herself three times before death to whoever said this devotion.
A thiarna ró-mhillis Íosa Chríost
Aonmhic Dé athair uile-chumhachta…
Oh lord too-sweet, Jesus Christ
The one Son of God, all powerful father…
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Part of the Discussion between Oisín & Patrick. 12 stanzas, Lch. 26-28. Fenian poem concerning Oisín relating the adventures of the Fenians to Patrick before Oisín’s death.
A Phádraig, is trua an scéal rí-shéimh na bhflaith…
Oh Patrick, it is a pity the truly gentle story of the lords…
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My Tragedy, My Urgency, My Situation, My Deep Wounding (Beochaoineadh Mártain Uí Chreadáin). 55 stanzas, Lch. 29-39. An elegy for a piper who went missing in 1815.
Och a Mhártain cas mo chléibh tú
A chuisle na ndaimh, sa ghrá na héigse
Tú imeacht chun fáin is cráite an scéal liom,
Is go bhfuil osna i mo lár da bharr, gan faoiseamh…
Alas Mártain you twist my chest
Oh pulse of the poets, in the love of the learned
Your went astray and agonized is the story to me
And there is a sigh in my centre because of it, without relief…
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Tadhg Mac Cárthaigh’s Responding to Diarmaid Ó Riain. 15 stanzas, Lch. 40-42.
Mo chrá is mo chumha an smúit seo ar Éire…
My vexation and my sorrow this gloom on Ireland…
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The Life and Martyrdom of St. Margaret. Lch. 43-55. For refusing marriage, St. Margaret of Antioch was elaborately tortured and beheaded. She promised powerful indulgences to anyone who wrote or read her story.
Gin naofa bheannaithe mhóir miorúilteach darbh comhainm Maighréad .i. iníon Theodosius duine ardchumhachtach don cinéal céanna…
A holy, greatly blessed, miraculous birth was that of her called Margaret eg. the daughter of Theodosius, a very powerful person of the same type…
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The Elegy of the Father Nioclás Mac Síthigh. 23 stanzas, Lch. 55-59. Father Nioclás Mac Síthigh was unjustly hanged, drawn, and quartered in 1766.
Do chuala geoin ag slóite ar thaoibh cnoic,
Do bhuair do bhreoigh an cúige thimpeall,
Do bhúir éagóir is scóladh is sceimhle,
Do thionscain ruathar buairt is bíogadh!
Tar triúch ó tháinig tásc an rí-fhlaith…
I heard a confused noise from the crowds on the hillside,
Your grieving that sickened the surrounding province,
Your cry of injustice and torture and terror,
Your onrush of vexation and rousing
Through the territory since came reports of the true ruler’s death …
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“The Irish Grammer Dated This 20 Day of Sepember 1817.” Lch. 91-104. Copy of Mac Curtain’s 1728 “The Elements of the Irish Language” with additional pages of Irish abbreviations.
91-92: Preface
93-96: The Elements of the Irish Language
97-100: The Abbreviations most commonly Used in This Language
100-111: List of Irish Abbreviations
102: “The Irish Abbreviations by Patrick Ryan August the 5th 1825.” With additional note: “15th 1827 Patrick Ryan Quebec Canada North America [? Second Ire.]”
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The Rosary. 4 stanzas, Lch. 118.
Admhaim féin don tsaol gur pheacaíos
Is d'Aonmhac ghealchíoch Mhuire
Sealad dem shaol i gclaontacht staraíocht
'S ag réabadh ceartdlí an Phápa…
I myself confess to the world that I sinned
And to the one Son of Holy Mary’s bright breast
For a while of my life in evil gossiping
And violating the proper law of the Pope…
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The Hymn of the Saviour. Ó Mreinn wrote that this is sung to the tune of Éamonn an Chnoic. 9 stanzas, Lch 118-120.
Mo ghrá-sa mo Dhia, mo ghárda mo lia
Mo ghrá geal mo thiarna trócaireach
Mo ghrá mhilis Críost - grá an uile-chroí
Mo ghrá ar fad tú a Rí na glóire
Mo ghrá-sa do shúil, mo ghrá-sa do shiúl
Mo ghrá-sa do chlú is do chumhachta
Mo ghrá thu le fonn cé táim bunoscionn
Ní dhearna, mo chumha, do chomhairle…
My love my God, my guard my doctor
My bright love my merciful lord
Christ my sweet love - love of the all-heart
My love entirely you are oh King of the glories
My love, your eyes; my love, your walk
My love, your honour; and my love, your powers
My love you are with desire although I am vulgar
I didn’t take, my sorrow, your counsel…
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The Hymn of Christ. Ó Mreinn wrote that this is sung to the tune of ‘Seán Ó Duibhir an Ghleanna or that of Uair Mic na Chroinne.’ 5 stanzas, Lch. 121. A poetic description of the sins of Ireland.
A Íosa a mhic Muire, a Rí ghil na ríthe
A Impire na cine daonna is a ngrá
A Chríost mhilis oinigh, a Shoilse le’r cumadh
Ríocht Neimhe is níthe an tsaoil i dtráth
Díbir ár ndaille ár mbaois is ár mbuile
Choíche as ár gcroíthe a réiltín na ngrás
'S i d’íospairtse a Linbh naofa na croise
Cuimhnigh go dtugais saor sinn id’ bhás…
Oh Jesus son of Mary, oh bright King of kings
Oh Emperor of the races of people and of their love
Oh sweet honoured Christ, oh Light of creation
The Kingdom of Heaven and the things of the world in their time
Banish our blindness, our folly and our madness
Forever from our hearts oh star of graces
And in the il-treatment of you oh saintly Child of the cross
Remember that you brought us free in your death…
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The Hymn of the Holy Spirit. 3 stanzas + chorus, Lch. 122. A poetic comparison of Ireland with the other peoples of the world.
Is éachtach an t-eirleach seo in Éirinn le spás
Dár gcaochadh dár dtraochadh dár dtréanchur chun báis
Ár n-éitheach ár n-éigean ár gcraosnimh ag fás
Do léas sinn, do léirigh 'nár meirleachaibh ráis
Ag tréigean ag séanadh an Choirp Naofa sin Íosa ghil
Dár saoradh do céasadh ar ghéagaibh na caoinchroise
A phéarla na féile tríd phéinbhroid sa Pháis
Réitigh go réilteannach déarcach ár gcás
It is death-dealing this carnage in Ireland recently
Our blinding our subjugation our violent putting to death
Our falsehood our violence our poisonous maw widening
Flagellate us, subdue our thieving ways
Abandoning, denying that Holy Body of Bright Jesus
Who for our freedom was crucified on the limbs of the slender cross
Oh pearl of generosity through the pressing pain of the Passion
Rectify, beautifully and charitably, our circumstance
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The Hymn of Jesus. 28 stanzas + chorus, Lch. 123-128.
A Mhórmhic cathrach cailce na soilse aoibhinn
A thrócaire Pharathais a phearsain 'en triúr naofa
A stóir ghil maiteachas tabhair 'nár gclaonsmaointe
Is treoraigh m'anam gan anfa id’ ríocht, a Íosa - Amen…
Oh great Son of the white church of beautiful lights
Oh mercy of Paradise oh person of the Trinity
Oh bright love bring forgiveness into our perverse thoughts
And guide my soul without terror into your kingdom, oh Jesus - Amen…
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The Hymn of Holy Mary. 39 stanzas + chorus, Lch. 129-134.
Ullamhaigh a Íosa, naomhaigh neartaigh
Mo thoil mo chroí mo smaointe 's m'anam
Le toradh ghnáith do ghrá-sa geal
'S in aghaidh mo namhad ardaigh m'acmhainn…
Ready oh Jesus, sanctify, strengthen
My will, my heart, my thoughts, and my soul
With the common fruit of your bright love
And against my enemies increase my ability…
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The Carol of Jesus. 9 stanzas, Lch. 135-136.
Íosa dom dhíon is dom ghárda
Cé gur liomsa cuireadh chun báis thu
Is mé a bhuail go cruinn trí chroí do dhearnan
'S id’ chaomhchois chumtha chumhra an táirne…
Jesus for my shield and my guardian
Although it was me that put you to death
And me that struck completely through the centre of your palm
And in your shapely, sweet-smelling slender feet the nails…
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The Carol of Holy Mary. Ó Mreinn wrote that this is sung to the tune of Carolan’s Devotion.’ 12 stanzas, Lch. 137.
Is tréithlag mo chealtair i gcanntlamh na gcás
Dom spréachadh le splanca 's mé ar bhranra ag an mbás
Mo bhréaga is mo bhlandar 's mo chlampar gan spás
Do shéid mise i dtreabhlaid neamh-meabhrach im rás…
Exhausted is my face in the sorrow of the circumstances
For my spattering with sparks and me on the hot griddle of death
My lies and my blather and my quarrelling without space
That blew me into unthinking distress in my course…
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I Wish to Speak about the Giving Star (Duan Geanmnaíochta na Maighdine Muire / The Hymn of the Purity of the Virgin Mary). 5 stanzas, Lch. 138.
Is méin liom labhairt ar réiltín roinnteach
Réiltín bhronntach bheannaithe
Réiltín cheólmhar réiltín ghlórmhar
Réiltín thrócaireach thaitneamhach
Réiltín lonrach réiltín phrionsach
Chraobhach chlúmhail chaithiseach
Réiltín ríúil éachtach impiriúil
Chaomhghlan Chríostúil charthanach…
I wish to speak about a star of sharing
A star of blessed giving
A musical star, a glorious star
A star of pleasing mercy
A shining star, a princely star
Branched, renowned, affectionate
A royal, powerful, imperial star
Mild, Christian, friendly…
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The Hymn of the Marys. 5 stanzas, Lch. 140. Later print sources note this is sung to the tune of Cailín Deas Crúite na mBó, but this is not included in Ó Mreinn’s manuscript.
Seo comhairle thar chomhairleacha an tsaoil
Mar chomhairle bheir Gaelach go glinn
Do gach óigh mhilis mhómharach mhaorga
Go deo libh gan réiteach i gcuing
A ógaibh dá órgacht bhur dtréithe
Ach pósaíg’ mo ghéarchumann Críost
Ó! 's do gheobhaidh sibh coróinn ghlórmhar dá aoireacht
Go ceolmhar geal naofa 'na ríocht…
Here is advice above all other advice
As clear, [truly?] Gaelic counsel
To every sweet majestic youth
Forever without freedom from servitude
Oh youth, splendid are your traits
But wed my close companion Christ
Oh! and you will get a glorious crown of the shepherd
Musically bright and saintly in his kingdom…
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Hymn of the Eternal Father. 5 stanzas + chorus, Lch. 141. Later print sources note this is sung to the tune of An Spealadóir, but this is not included in Ó Mreinn’s manuscript.
An uair a thagainn go tigh an tábhairne
'S do shuínn ann chun óil
Le gasra ghlan ghreanmhar
Ba mhilse guth beoil
Dá dteagmhainn ba chaithis liom
Bheith eadarthu go meanmnach
Is seanchas suilt againne
Punch rince agus ceol…
When I would go to the tavern
And I did sit to drink
With humorous, pure youths
of most sweet voice
A meeting that would be most fond for me
To be between them most courageously
And we have enjoyable storytelling
Punch dance and music…
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Hymn of the Trinity. Ó Mreinn wrote that this is sung to the tune of the Flowers of Edinburgh “in Irish Blath Dúin Eadn.” 5 stanzas, Lch 142-143.
Éistíg’ gach eolach san Eoraip go héachtach
Lem’ sceolta go scéithfead don tsaol gan spás
Aonmhac uil'-chumhachtach na trócaire gur thréigeas
Ár nglór uile ár ngéarshearc do shaor sinn sa Pháis
Ár gcrobhaire bronntach, bile milis,
Cabhair an domhain a ghlaine ghile
Fonn na bhfann ár gcoinneal oinigh
Réiltín na ngrás,
Údar na féile agus péarla na díothachta
Ár gcaomhchumann Íosa do scaoilfeas ár gcás…
Listen closely all you scholars in Europe
To my stories that I will relate about the world without delay
The one Son, all-powerful, of mercy that I abandoned
Our voice, our close love that freed us in the Passion
Our generous strongman, sweet scion,
Help the world oh bright pure one
Desire of the weak, our esteemed candle
Star of grace
Cause of generosity and pearl of the needy
Our gentle companion Jesus who freed our concern…
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Stop and I Will Relate the Story of the Crowd (An Paidrín Páirteach). 5 stanzas, Lch. 144.
Stadaíg’ is scéithfead scéal na scataí
Ar mhaidhm ar mhailís Shátan
Ar ghangaid ar ghéarghoin ghaethe an ghadaí
'S ar chlaonchoir chaithí an chneágaire
Do mealladh leis céad thar céadta i gcathair
Do léadh go glan diagacht neamhdha
Is preabaíg’se ón bpéist fá ghéagaibh geanmnaidhe
Péarla an Phaidrín Pháirtigh…
Stop and I will relate the story of the crowd
On the outbreak of Satan’s malice
On the venom, on the sharp-wounding of the thief’s spears
And on the inferior, perverse crime of the wounder
Hundreds of hundreds have been enticed by him in the city
Read clearly is the heavenly theology
And leap away from the worm under the chaste limbs
Pearl of the Rosary
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Hope of the Virgin Mary (Dóchas Thaidhg insa Mhaighdean Muire). 8 stanzas, Lch. 145.
Díbhse a Ghaeil bhochta léifeadsa eachtra
Cé claoite tréith mé chois taobh na farraige
I gcríochaibh Déiseach ag déanamh machnaithe
Ar phoimp 's ar chlaonchortha an tsaoil mhallaithe…
To you oh poor Gaels I will read an adventure
Although overcome and weak I am beside the sea
In the Déiseach lands reflecting
On the pomp and on the perverse crimes of the cursed world…
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The Vexation of the Irish. 4 stanzas + chorus, Lch. 146. Later print sources note this is sung to the tune of Caiseal Mumhan, but this is not included in Ó Mreinn’s manuscript.
Mo dheacair dhubhach is ceasna chumhach an ghráin seo ar Ghaeil
Do dheasca drúise agus spalpadh mionn i mbearnain bhaoil
Is le taitneamh dlúith do shealbhú go hard sa tsaol
An rachmais úd do dhallann súile chách go claon…
My dark difficulty, a lonely affliction is this hatred on Gaels
Because of lust and outpouring of precious things in dire straits
And with intense enjoyment to possess highly in life
That wealth that blinds the eyes of everyone perversely…
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Hymn of the Saints. 16 stanzas, Lch. 147.
Ó! a bhanríon na bhflaitheasaibh, is tú mo chrann bagartha
Is tú mo chunsailéir caithiseach - do chuas féd thearmann
Is é m'intinn is m'aigne - Ó! na mílte bliain dá mairfinnse
Ó! m'ímpire mhear mheanmnach nach déanfainn d'athrach…
Oh! Queen of the heavens, you are my leading warrior
You are my beloved counsellor - I go under your protection
And it is my mind and my perception - Oh! the thousands of years if I survive
Oh! My nimble, thoughtful empress that I would not substitute…
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Hymn of St. Declan (Duan Déaglán). 17 stanzas, Lch. 149-150.
A Dhéagláin órga onóraigh, a easpaig
Is ort a thriallas go diaga 'na ndreamaibh
Pobal geal Dé le cléir na salm
Is a nguí dhúthrachtach urnaitheach ‘o d’agall…
Oh Déaglán, golden and honourable, oh bishop
It is to you that journeyed divinely in drove
The bright congregation of God and the clergy of the psalms
And their zealous devoted prayer crying to you…
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Thanksgiving to my Lord. 3 stanzas, Lch 151. Later print sources note this is sung to the tune of Over the Water to Charley, but this is not included in Ó Mreinn’s manuscript.
Buíochas lem’ Thiarna tá Dia againn mar ghárda
'S an ghrian gheal a mháthair dár gcoimhdeacht
Réidhfid is riarfad an chliar bhocht so thárlaigh
Ag iarraidh na ngrás ar an ní sin
Bladmadh ár mbriathra go diaga oinigh álainn
Le dianthuile grá dhóibh 'nár gcroí istigh
Caochfid is pianfid an phiast nimh' ár námhaid
Do chiapann do chránn sinn sa choimheascar…
Thanks to by Lord, we have God as our guardian
And the bright sun his mother for our chaperon
Ready and provide for this poor cleric who came
Asking for grace on that thing
Enflame our words divinely honourably beautifully
With the strong flow of love for them in our hearts inside us
Blind and injure the poison worm of our enemies
That torment and that anguish us in the struggle…
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The Hymn of the World. 41 stanzas, Lch. 152-157. A poetic plea to end faction fighting at fairs.
Is fíor gur comhairle thar chomhairle na gcéadta
Mo chomhairle dom chomhghus 's dom ghaolta
Comhairle chaoin do dhaoine an tsaoil
Ó! bheith ceannsa carthannach cneasta le chéile…
It is true the advice above all other advice
My advice to my close friends and my relations
Gentle advice to the people of the world
Oh! to be meek, friendly and decent to each other…
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Farewell to Ireland. 7 stanzas, Lch. 158. Later print sources note this is sung to the tune of Móirín Ní Chuilleanáin, but this is not included in Ó Mreinn’s manuscript.
Mo shlán le dúthracht d'Éire
'S do Ghaeil bhocht le gile ghrá
Mo shlán do dhúiche dhéirceach
Ghlan Dhéiseacha uile ghnáth
Mo shlán le Dún na Méithbhreach
Na séimhfhir 's na mbruinneall mbán
Do thráchtadh liomsa ar naofacht
An Aon Mhic sin d’fhuiling Páis…
Farewell with devotion to Ireland
And to the poor Gaels with clear love
Farewell to the land, charitable, clear
of the Decies, of every habit
Farewell to Dún na Méithbhreach
The gentlemen and the maiden women
Who recounted with me the sanctity
of the One Son that endured the Passion…
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Sin of Lust, Oh Voracious Dark Hound. 21 stanzas, Lch. 159-161.
A pheaca na drúise, a chú dhubh chraosach
Gnáthfuath eagnach m'anma go léir dhuit
Gráin mo chroí choíche ort a phéist nimh
Le dianghrá d'Íosa Críost do shaor sinn…
Oh sin of lust, Oh voracious dark hound
Common hatred manifest of my entire soul to you
Detestation of my heart forever on you oh poison worm
With intense love for Jesus Christ who freed us…
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The Advice of Tadhg to His Loving Friends. 1 stanza, Lch. 162. Later print sources note this is sung to the tune of Ar an mBóithrín Buí, but this is not included in Ó Mreinn’s manuscript.
Mo theagasc i dtráth glacaig’ le grá
A ghasra bhán bhéasach
'S ná fanaig’ ar fán fada fé ghráin
Ach casaig’ go sámh séadach
Ar leanbh na ngrás mo pheannaid sa Pháis
Do cheannaigh go lándaor sinn
Ó bhaitheas go trácht in allas a chneá
Is fuil bheannaithe bhreá a naomhchoirp.
My instruction in time, accept with love
Oh youths of mannered women
And don’t remain wandering in hatred
But turn tranquilly and valuably
Upon the child of grace through pain of the Passion
Who bought so expensively us
From head to foot with the sweat of his wound
And the blessed fine blood of his holy body.
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A Foggy Morning when I Arose and I Struck Out Among the Woods. 5 stanzas, Lch. 205. The only folk song in the manuscript, rendered in a semi-phonetic transcription. (This song is still sung in the Waterford Gaeltacht)
Maidin cheoch nuair a dh’éirigh mé
Is do bhuail mé i measc na coillte
Is ansúid a bhuail an treighid mé
Nach leigheasfar, faraor,
Do chuala an bhruinneall mheidhreach
I lúb na coille draighnigh,
Is do las mo chroí le greadhain di
Nó gur dea-bhean dhom í…
A foggy morning when I arose
And I struck out among the woods
It’s there that the shooting pain struck me
That will not be cured, alas,
I heard the merry maiden
In the midst of the blackthorn-filled wood
And my heart lighted with joyous clamour
That she would be a good woman for me…
For citation, please use: Ó Mreinn, Pádraig. 1827. “Leabhar Phádraig Uí Mhreinn.” Ó Dubhghaill, Dónall. 2024. Na Gaeil san Áit Ró-Fhuar. Gaeltacht an Oileáin Úir: www.gaeilge.ca
Images used with generous permission of the National Library of Ireland, Special Collections.
