My Dark Rosaleen

Presenting "My Dark Rosaleen" to the public, in the 1840s, James Clarence Mangan said:

This impassioned song, entitled, in the original, Roisin Dubh, or The Black-Haired Little Rose, was written  in the reign of Elizabeth by one of the poets of the celebrated Tyrconnellian chieftain, Hugh the Red O'Donnell. It purports to be an allegorical address from Hugh to Ireland on the subject of his love and struggles for her, and his resolve to raise her again to the glorious position she held as a nation, before the irruption of the Saxon and Norman spoilers.

It was no such thing. It was an imaginative creation of Mangan himself, and arose from many years of fascination with the simple poem "Róisín Dubh," which he had already translated twice. It was not a translation of "Róisín Dubh," but an entirely new creation using that poem's alleged underlying theme. Mangan often represented his original poems as "translations," because it allowed him to fabricate fascinating stories about its authors or foreign places to add magic to the poem itself, and because it allowed him to express emotions without admitting them as his own feelings or imaginings.

This Irish poem, Roisin Dubh, had been presented by the scholars to Mangan as an allegorical poem where Ireland is given a girl's name, and the poet foresees assistance coming from oversees (in this case Spain and Rome) to liberate Ireland from the tyrannous English rule. But this was, actually a misrepresentation of the poem, which was, in fact, a simple, if reckless, love poem.

The words that were provided to James Clarence Mangan began:

O rosebud, let there not be sorrow on account of what happened to you!
The friars are coming over the sea, and they are moving on the ocean;
Your pardon will come from the Pope and from Rome in the east.
And spare not the Spanish wine on my Roisin Dubh.

Whether from error in the manuscripts or error of the scholar in translation, there is a very significant error in this version, i.e., the second line says, "The friars are coming over the sea." Twentieth century scholars affirm that the correct original version of the poem is "The brothers (or friars) are going over the sea. There is a smaller, but still significant error in the last line, where "spare not the Spanish wine" should be "The Spanish wine will not be spared."

According to the new studies, the poem does not date back to the time of Red Hugh O'Donnell (turn of the 17th Century) but to Penal times (viz., 18th Century). It was not originally a patriotic ballad, but a love poem. The brothers or friars (Bráithre in the Irish) are the Franciscan priests who went around the country in those harsh days giving missions. "Friar" is derived from the French "Frére" of course meaning "brother."

Now the regular priests, mostly educated in Spain, since no Catholic seminaries or schools were allowed in Ireland, were actually soft on sex. They saw celibacy as an institution to avoid priests having responsibility for wives and family, but were understanding of wayward expressions of sexuality, whether of the public or of the clergy. Not so, the friars. Ever zealous, they preached hell-fire for those who enjoyed any wilful sex outside of the marriage act.

So, what happened to Roisin Dubh, as recounted in the first line? She, indeed, has committed a sex act with the poet, and has been denounced, either in person (as sometimes happened) or in general terms. However, the poet assures her that she need not be saddened, because the friars have left the parish and are going away over the sea.

Over the Sea? Yes: this was normal. Before the 20th century, the roads were appalling and travel over land was by horse-drawn wagon. The wagon wheels had wooden spokes, with steel rims, and every bump was felt. It was much easier to travel by boat when possible. Consider this verse of "Bean Pháidín," a song from the region of Westport:

Rachainn go Gaillimh, go Gaillimh, go Gaillimh;
Rachainn go Gaillimh le Páidín.
Rachainn go Gaillimh, go Gaillimh, go Gaillimh
Agus thiocfainn abhaile sa bhád leis.

"I'd go to Galway, to Galway, to Galway;
I'd go to Galway with Paudeen.
I'd go to Galway, to Galway, to Galway
And I'd come home on the boat with him."

Going to Galway from Westport (or anywhere else along the Conamara coast) was naturally by boat, not by road; so it was normal for the Friars to be leaving by boat. This bit of sociology was probably not in the consciousness of the nineteenth century scholars, who mistakenly mistook the references for forces travelling over the sea. Likwise, the pardon coming from the Pope would simply be administered by the regular clergy, without any great Armada from Rome, and the Spanish wine not being denied indicates acceptance of the wayward girl at the Sacrament, despite her sin.

Twice had Mangan already "translated" Róisín Dubh. I give just the first verse of his first translation here, since I am dealing with "My Dark Rosaleen" rather than the other poem.

Since last night's star, afar, afar,
Heaven saw my speed;
I seemed to fly o'er mountains high
On magic steed.
I dashed through Erne! The world may learn
The cause from love:
For light or sun shone on me none,
But Roisin Dubh.

This is not a translation of the first verse of the straight version given to him; it shows his freedom of taking the whole poem and giving it a new incarnation. But "My Dark Rosaleen" is no re-incarnation of the poem, but an entirely new poem using the notion of calling Ireland "My Dark Rosaleen" and visualising military support coming from abroad.

Count John McCormack, The Clancy Brothers and John Spillane have all given versions of My Dark Rosaleen, but I am not happy with any of these tunes and intend to give my own rendition sometime soon.

Krunchie's Version of My Dark Rosaleen

In the meantime, here are the words of my version of  the original poem, Roisin Dubh, composed with the benefit of twentieth century scholarship:

Rosheen, do not be saddened by what happened to you;
The preachers have left and gone; they are sailing o'er the blue.
Absolution will come from the Pope in Rome to you,
And the Holy Wine won't be denied to my Rosheen Doo.

Long are the hours I spent wooing her, yesterday until today.
Over mountains I travelled with her, and my sails upon the sea.
The great river she took in her stride, though its flood was great,
And sweetly, on every side, how the violens played!

You are my delight and the torment of my heart.
You dominate my mind in the middle of the Mass.
Neither heaven nor hell will ever force us to part,
For we are bound together with iron bonds of the heart.

I would tramp the hot desert, though my lips be parched;
I would face the icy lands at the periphery of the earth;
I would tame wild horses to plough across the hill,
Or turn mountains into valleys, whatever be your will.

It is not word for word. Where Mangan's habit was to expand the verbosity, mine is to contract. I give what I think are the original poet's sentiments, but in fewer verses. My words can be sung to the original Irish air, (more or less as heard in the film, and often mistakenly called, "Mise Éire").