S1 Ep2: D1 YC Queen Maeve's Cairn

Queen Maeve's Cairn, Knocknarea
GPS Location: 54.272091, -8.47533
Narrators: Mary Murphy and Sean McMahon

325 metres high overlooking Yeats country is this imposing megalithic tomb to the legendary Maeve, Queen of Connacht. The great mound of stones on top of Knocknarea's flat-topped summit is known as Miosgan Meadhbha or Maeve's Grave. Maeve is one of the primary characters in the Taín, one of Ireland's most famous legends which concerns Cuchulainn, who defends Ulster against Maeve's attack.

There are many indications that Maeve was in fact a goddess of sovereignty, one of the group of Irish female deities of war, territory and sexuality. The legend of her death is quite bizarre, as an 11th century text explains that she was killed by a sling-shot consisting of a lump of hard cheese, by her nephew on the shores of Lough Ree!

We reference Carrowmore in the audio and if it appeals, here are the GPS coordinates: Location: 54.250931, -8.51908

If skipping Carrowmore and going direct to Ballysadare Bridge, here are the GPS coordinates: GPS Location: 54.209507, -8.509383

Look out for the Yeats poem 'Red Hanrahan's song about Ireland' which references Knocknarea and Maeve's cairn. Yeats also penned the following poem about Maeve: -

Excerpt from The Old Age of Queen Maeve (from In the Seven Woods, Being Poems Chiefly of the Irish Heroic Age, 1903)

Maeve the great queen was pacing to and fro,
Between the walls covered with beaten bronze,
In her high house at Cruachan; the long hearth,
Flickering with ash and hazel, but half showed
Where the tired horse-boys lay upon the rushes,
Or on the benches underneath the walls,
In comfortable sleep; all living slept
But that great queen, who more than half the night
Had paced from door to fire and fire to door.
Though now in her old age, in her young age
She had been beautiful in that old way
That's all but gone; for the proud heart is gone,
And the fool heart of the counting-house fears all
But Soft beauty and indolent desire.
She could have called over the rim of the world
Whatever woman's lover had hit her fancy,
And yet had been great-bodied and great-limbed,
Fashioned to be the mother of strong children;
And she'd had lucky eyes and high heart,
And wisdom that caught fire like the dried flax,
At need, and made her beautiful and fierce,
Sudden and laughing.

Full version of the poem can be found here.
http://www.online-literature.com/yeats/792/