Fifty quatrains sang the woman of unknown countries, in the middle of the house, to Bran son of Febal, when the palace was full of kings who did not know where the woman had come from, since the enclosure was closed.
Bran's navigation
Here is the beginning of the story. One day, in the vicinity of the fortress, Bran was walking alone when he heard music behind him. When he looked behind him, there was still music behind him. He fell asleep, the music was so soft. When he awoke from his sleep, he saw near him a silver branch with white flowers which it was not easy to distinguish from this branch. Then Bran carried the branch in his hand to the palace. When there was a large gathering in the palace, a woman in foreign clothing was seen in the middle of the house. Then she sang the fifty quatrains to Bran, while the army listened and everyone saw her:
Here is a branch of the Emain apple tree
that I bring to you, like the others;
branches of white silver are on it,
crystal eyebrows with flowers.
There is a distant island;
all around the sea horses shine,
nice race against the foaming waves;
four feet support it.
Eye charm, glorious expanse
is the plain on which the armies play;
the boat fights against the chariot,
in the southern plain of Argent Blanc.
White bronze feet support it,
shining through centuries of beauty;
beautiful land through the centuries of the world,
where many flowers spread.
An old tree is there with the flowers,
on which the birds call for the hours;
in harmony they are used to
to call together every hour.
Splendors of every color shine
across the plains of pretty voices;
joy is usual; we line up around the music,
in the southern plain of the Silver Cloud.
Unknown complaint or treachery
in the well-known cultivated land;
there is nothing crude or rough,
but a sweet music that strikes the ear.
No sorrow, no mourning, no death,
neither disease nor weakness
this is the sign of Emain;
rare is such a marvel.
Beauty of a wonderful land,
whose aspects are pleasant,
whose view is a beautiful land,
incomparable is its mist.
If we see the Land of Kindness,
on which dragon stones and crystals rain;
the sea throws the wave against the land,
crystal hairs of his mane.
Riches, treasures of all colors
are in the earth calm, fresh beauty,
who listens to the sweet music
while drinking the best wine.
Carts of gold in the Plain of the Sea,
rising with the flow towards the sun,
silver carts in the Plain of Games
and flawless bronze chariots.
Couriers of yellow gold are there on the shore:
other steeds, purple in color;
others, with wool on their backs,
the color of the sky all blue.
At sunrise will come
a handsome man lighting up the plains;
he rides the beaten expanse of the waves;
he stirs the sea until it is blood.
An army will come across the clear sea;
towards land they sail;
then they row to the stone in sight,
from which rise a hundred refrains.
We sing a chorus to the army
(through the long centuries), who is not miserable;
its music swells with the choruses of hundreds,
who expect neither decline nor death.
Multiform emain in front of the sea,
whether it is near, whether it is far,
where are thousands of colorful women.
that the clear sea encircles.
When he heard the sound of music,
the chorus of the little birds of the Very calm Earth,
a group of women, come from the hill
at the Plaine des Jeux where he is.
There comes happiness with health
to the land where laughter resonates,
in the Very calm Earth, in all seasons
will come the joy that lasts forever.
It's a day of eternal good weather,
who pays money on land;
a white cliff bordering the sea,
which receives its heat from the sun.
Army race along the Plaine des jeux;
charming game, without weakness;
in the varied land, after so many beauties,
they do not expect decline or death.
Listen to music at night
and come to the land of many colors
varied country, splendor on a tiara of beauty,
from where the white cloud shines.
There are three times fifty distant islands,
in the Ocean to the west of us;
bigger than Erin twice
is each of them, or three times.
A great birth will come after centuries,
which will not be in the sizes:
the son of a woman whose husband will not be known;
he will have kingship over thousands of men.
Royalty without beginning, without end;
he created the world perfectly,
his are the earth and the sea;
woe to him who will incur his disgrace!
It is he who made the heavens.
Happy is he who has a pure heart;
he will purify the people under pure water;
it is he who will cure your ills.
My speech is not for you all,
although this great wonder is known;
that Bran, among the crowd of the world, listens
the part of science communicated to it!
Do not fall on a bed of laziness;
May not drunkenness overcome you!
begins a journey through the clear sea
to see if you will reach the Land of Women.
Thereupon the woman walked away from them and they did not know where she had gone. And with her she had taken her branch. The branch had jumped from Bran's hands into the woman's hands and Bran's hand had not had the strength to hold the branch.
The next day Bran went out to sea. His company was three men. One of his foster brothers or his age companions was at the head of each novena. When he had been two days and two nights on the sea, he saw a man coming in a chariot on the sea. This man sang to him thirty other quatrains and made himself known as Manannân son of Lêr; he said he intended to go to Ireland after many years and that a son would be born to him who would be called Mongan, son of Fiachna. Then he sang his thirty quatrains:
Bran thinks it's a beautiful marvel
to cross the clear sea in a boat,
while for me, around my chariot, from afar
it is a flowery plain on which he rides.
What is the clear sea
to the bow boat where Bran is,
it is a pleasant plain with many flowers,
for me, from my two-wheeled chariot.
Bran sees
number of waves spread over the clear sea
I see, me, in the Plaine des Jeux,
perfect red-headed flowers.
The sea horses shine in the summer,
as far as Bran extends his gaze;
rivers pour a flood of honey,
in the territory of Manannân son of Lêr.
The color of the ocean you are on,
the white shade of the sea on which you row,
it is the widespread yellow and blue,
it is earth which is not hard.
Spotted salmon jump from the breast
of the white sea that you look at;
they are calves, they are colored lambs,
in friendship, without mutual murder.
Although we only see a charioteer,
in the pleasant Plain with many flowers,
there are a lot of couriers on the surface,
although you do not see them.
Extent of the plain, number of troops,
colors that shine in pure glory;
beautiful torrent of silver, degrees of gold,
welcome, among all kinds of abundance.
Charming game, full of fun;
they play in front of the foaming wine,
men and pretty women, under a cradle,
without sin, without crime.
It is on the top of a wood that swimming
your boat through the peaks;
there is a wood laden with very beautiful fruits,
under the bow of your little boat.
A wood with flowers and fruits,
on which is the real smell of wine,
wood without decline, without blemish,
where are leaves of gold color.
We are from the beginning of Creation,
without old age, without cemeteries;
so we do not wait until we are without strength;
sin has not come to us.
Bad day that when the Serpent came,
to the Father, in his City;
he perverted this world,
so that decline came, which was not at the origin.
Through greed and gluttony he killed us,
by them he ruined his noble race;
the withered body went through the circle of punishments
and the eternal abode of torture.
It is the law of pride in this world,
to believe in creatures, to forget God;
to be overcome by illness and old age,
the soul destroyed by disappointment.
A noble salvation will come
of the King who created us;
a beautiful law will come by the seas;
besides being God, he will be man.
In this form, whoever you look at
will come from your side;
I have to go to his house,
towards the woman of the plain of Liné.
For it is Mananân, son of Lêr,
on his chariot, in the form of a man;
of his race will soon be
a handsome man in a body of white clay.
Manannân, descendant of Lêr, will be
a vigorous bedmate from Caintigern;
we will celebrate his son in the beautiful world;
Fiachna will recognize him as her son.
He will charm the company of each sidh;
he will be the darling of all Good Earth;
he will make known secrets, flow of science,
in the world, without being feared.
It will take the form of any animal,
both in the azure sea and on land,
he will be a dragon in front of the attacking enemy;
he will be the wolf of any great forest.
He will be a stag with silver horns,
in the land where the carts are driven;
it will be spotted salmon in a full pond;
he will be a seal; he will be a beautiful white swan.
It will be for many centuries
a hundred years old, a great king;
he will beat the roads, distant grave;
he will plow the fields, a wheel on the sea.
It will be around kings and their champions
that he will be known as a valiant hero,
in the fortresses of a land on a height
I will send him from Islay his end.
Very high I place it with the princes;
he will be defeated by a son of error;
Manannân, son of Lêr
will be his father, his guardian.
He will be (because his time will be short)
fifty years in this world;
a dragon stone of the sea will kill him,
in the fight of Senlabor.
He will ask to drink water from Lake Lô,
looking at the river of blood;
the White troop will lead him on a wheel of clouds
to the assembly where there is no sorrow.
That firmly Bran oars
towards the Land of Women which is not far away;
Emain to the hospitality so varied,
you will reach it before sunset!
With that Bran moved away until he was in sight of the island. He rowed around; there, a troop burst into laughter. Everyone looked at Bran and his people, but did not stop to talk with them, and continued to burst out laughing in their faces. Bran sent one of his people to the island. He joined them and burst out laughing like the other people on the island. As he passed Bran, his comrades called out to him. But he didn't speak to them and just looked at them and laughed at them. The name of this island is “Island of Joy”. With that, they left her.
It wasn't long before they reached the Isle of Women. They saw a row of women at the port. The queen of women said: “Come to my country, Bran son of Febal; your arrival is welcome! » Bran did not dare to go ashore. The woman throws a ball of thread at Bran right in the face.
Bran gets his hands on the ball. The ball attaches to his palm. The end of the ball of thread was in the hand of the woman, who pulled the boat into port. Thereupon they entered a large dwelling, which contained a bed for each couple, that is to say three times nine beds. The food that was put on each dish did not disappear; it seemed to them that they had only been there for a year, and it was several years ago; they lacked no flavor.
But homesickness seized one of them, Nechtân son of Collbran. His parents begged Bran to return to Ireland with him. The woman told them that they would regret leaving. However, they went away and the woman warned them that none of them should touch land and that they should visit and take with them the one they had left behind in the Isle of Joy.
So they went until they came to the assembly at the Brook of Bran. The people asked them who had come to the sea. He replied: “It is I, Bran son of Febal. We don't know him, said the other; but we have Bran's Sailing in our old stories. » Nechtân jumps from his boat. As soon as it touched the ground of Ireland, it immediately fell into ashes, as if it had been in the earth for hundreds of years.
So Bran sang this quatrain:
Collbran's son had great madness
to lift up your hand against age;
and no one throws out a stream of pure water
on Nechtân, son of Collbran.
Then Bran related to the assembly his adventures from the beginning to that time and he wrote these quatrains in Ogham. He bade them farewell, and we do not know where he went from that hour on.
