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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 | | | | | | Skibbereen is rightly known as the capital of West Cork. It is the "hub" from which the many "sparkling jew els" of the area can be reached. Around each headland the unsuspecting visitor will encounter a coastline dominated by scenic harbours and colourful fishing villages, secluded beaches and dozens of sparcely populated islands which have, over recent decades lost their Gaelic speaking colonies but now offer endless hours of opportunity in exploring and encounterinhg an Ireland as it was lived down through the ages. |  |
History
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