Errigal Truagh Old Church West Gable
Above Photograph by Andreas F. Borchert
Irish Legend of Sir Turlough, or the Church-Yard Bride of County Monaghan
In the churchyard of Erigle Truagh, (Errigal Truagh) in the barony of Truagh, county Monaghan, there is said to be a spirit which appears to persons whose families are there interred. Its appearance, which is generally made in the following manner, is uniformly fatal, being an omen of death to those who are so unhappy, as to meet with it. When a funeral takes place, it watches the person who remains last in the graveyard, over whom it possesses a fascinating influence. If the loiterer be a young man, it takes the shape of a beautiful female, inspires him with a charmed passion, and exacts a promise to meet in the churchyard, on a month from that day, this promise is sealed by a kiss, which communicates a deadly taint to the individual who receives it. It then disappears and no sooner does the young man quit the churchyard, than he remembers the history of the spectre which is well known in the parish, sinks into despair, dies, and is buried in the place of appointment on the day, when the promise was to have been fulfilled. If, on the contrary, it appears to a female, it assumes the form of a young man of exceeding elegance and beauty.
Some years ago I was shown the grave of a young person, about eighteen years of age, who was said to have fallen a victim to it and it is not more than ten months since a man in the same parish declared that he gave the promise, and the fatal kiss and consequently, looked upon himself as lost. He took a fever, died and was buried on the day appointed for the meeting, which was exactly a month from that of the interview. There are several cases of the same kind mentioned, but the two new alluded to, are the only ones that came within my personal knowledge. It appears, however, that the spectre does not confine its operations to the churchyard, as there have been instances mentioned of its appearance at weddings, and dances, where it never failed to secure its victims by dancing them into pleuritic fevers. I am unable to say whether this is a strictly local superstition, or whether it is considered peculiar to other churchyards in Ireland, or elsewhere. In its female shape it somewhat resembles the Elle maids of Scandinavia, but I am acquainted with no account of fairies, or apparitions, in which the sex is said to be changed, except, in that of the devil himself. The country people say it is Death.
Sir Turlough or the Church-Yard Bride
The bride she bound her golden hair –
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
And her step was light as the breezy air
When it bends the morning flowers so fair,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
And oh, but her eyes they danc’d so bright,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
As she longed for the dawn of to-morrow’s
Her bridal vows of love to plight,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
The bridegroom is come with youthful brow,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
To receive from his Eva, her virgin vow,
“Why tarries the bride of my bosom now”?
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
A cry! a cry! ’twas her maidens spoke,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
Your bride is asleep, she has not awoke,
And the sleep she sleeps will never be broke,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
Sir Turlough sank down with a heavy moan,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
And his cheek became like the marble stone –
“Oh the pulse of my heart is for ever gone”!
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy
The keen* is loud, it comes again,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
And rises sad from the funeral train,
As in sorrow it winds along the plain,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
And oh! but the plumes of white were fair,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
When they flutter’d all mournful in the air,
As rose the hymn of the requiem prayer,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
There is a voice that but one can hear,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
And it softly pours from behind the bier,
Its note of death on Sir Turlough’s ear,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy
The keen is loud, but that voice is low,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
And it sings its song of sorrow slow,
And names young Turlough’s name with woe,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy
Now the grave is closed and the mass is said,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
And the bride she sleeps, in her lonely bed,
The fairest corpse among the dead,**
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
The wreaths of virgin-white are laid
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
By virgin hands o’er the spotless maid;
And the flowers are strewn, but they soon will fade,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
“Oh! go not yet – not yet away
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
Let us feel that life is near our clay”
The long-departed seem to say,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
But the tramp and voices of life are gone,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
And beneath each cold forgotten stone,
The mouldering dead sleep all alone,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
But who is he, who lingereth yet?
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
The fresh green sod with his tears is wet
And his heart in that bridal grave is set,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy
Oh, who but Sir Turlough, the young and brave,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
Should bend him o’er that bridal grave,
And to his death-bound Eva rave,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
“Weep not – weep not”, said a lady fair,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
Should youth and valour thus despair,
And pour their vows to the empty air?
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
There’s charmed music upon her tongue,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
Such beauty – bright and warm and young,
Was never seen the maids among,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy
A laughing light, a tender grace,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
Sparkled in beauty around her face,
That grief from mortal heart might chase,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
The maid for whom thy salt tears fall,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
Thy grief, or love can ne’er recall;
She rests beneath that grassy pall,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy
My heart, it strangely cleaves to thee,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
And now that thy plighted love is free,
Give its unbroken pledge to me,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy
The charm is strong upon Turlough’s eye,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
His faithless tears are already dry,
And his yielding heart has ceased to sigh,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy
“To thee”, the charmed chief replied,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
“I pledge that love o’er my buried bride
Oh! come in, and in Turlough’s hall abide”.
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
Again the funeral voice came o’er,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
The passing breeze as it wailed before,
And streams of mournful music bore,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
If I, to thy youthful heart am dear,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
One month from hence thou wilt meet me here,
Where lay thy bridal Eva’s bier,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
He pressed her lips as the words were spoken,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
And his banshee’s wail now far and broken
Murmur’d Death as he gave the token
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
“Adieu, adieu,” said this lady bright,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
And she slowly passed like a thing of light,
Or a morning cloud from Sir Turlough’s sight,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
Now Sir Turlough has death in every vein,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
And there’s fear and grief o’er his wide domain
And gold for those who will calm his brain
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
“Come haste thee leech right swiftly ride,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
Sir Turlough the brave Green Truagha’s pride,
Has pledged his love to the churchyard bride,”
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy,
The leech groaned loud “Come tell me this
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
By all thy hopes of weal and bliss,
Has Sir Turlough given the fatal kiss?”,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy
The banshee’s cry is loud and long,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
At eve she weeps her funeral song,
And it floats on the twilight breeze along,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
Then the fatal kiss is given, – the last,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
Of Turlough’s race and name is past
His doom is seal’d, his die is cast
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
“Leech say not that thy skill is vain,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
Oh, calm the owner of his frenzied brain,
And half his lands thou shalt retain”,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
The leech has fail’d, and the hoary priest,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
With pious shrift his soul releas’d,
And the smoke is high of his funeral feast,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
The Shanachies now are assembled all,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
And the songs of praise in Sir Turlough’s hall,
To the sorrowing harp’s dark music fall,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
And there is trophy, banner, and plume,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
And the pomp of death with its darkest gloom,
O’ershadows the Irish chieftain’s tomb
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
The month is clos’d and Green Truagha’s pride,
Killeevy, O Killeevy!
Is married to death and side by side,
He slumbers now with his churchyard bride,
By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy.
Ballad by William Carelton
- to Keen – The Irish cry, or wailing for the dead, properly written ‘Caoine’, and pronounced as if written, keen. Speaking of this practice, which still prevails in many parts of Ireland, the Rev. A Ross rector of Dunglven, in his statistical survey of that parish observes that, “however it may offend the judgment, or shock our present refinement, its affecting cadences will continue to find admirers wherever what is truly and and plaintive can be relished or understood”. It is also thus noticed in the “Traits and Stories of the Irish Peasantry”.
I have often, indeed always, felt that there is something exceedingly touching in the Irish cry, in fact, that it breathes the very spirit of wild and natural sorrow. The Irish peasantry, whenever a death takes place, are exceedingly happy in seizing upon any contingent circumstances.
- Other expressions peculiarly Irish and are all phrases quite common in cases of death among the peasantry. “What a purty corpse”; “How well she becomes death”; “You wouldn’t meet a purtier corpse of a summer’s day!”; “She bears the change well”.
29 Oct. 1842 Father MATHEW in Erigle Truagh
The glorious Apostle of temperance visited the parish of Erigle Truagh, Co. Monaghan, on Sunday last. The object of his visit was two fold; first, to preach a charity sermon and next administer the total abstinence pledge. lt may be well, perhaps, to inform our readers, that it was this parish which furnished Carleton with the localities and characters of many of his “Traits and Stories of the Irish Peasantry.” It is the county of the M’KENNA’S. The Catholic population of the parish consists of 1,500 families and of these, fully 1,000 are M’KENNA’S.
Father MATHEW arrived on Saturday at Election Hill, the hospitable residence of the gentlemanly and patriotic parish priest, the Rev. Charles M’DERMOTT, where he remained till Monday. The numbers at the chapel, and on the roads adjacent, were immense.
Amongst the respectable persons present on the occasion, we observed the following;
Rev. Doctor M’GINIS and Rev. J. TIERNEY, Clones
Rev. P. MOYNAGH, P. P., Donagh
Rev. J. CAULFIELD, Clones East
Rev. P M’MAHON P. P. Tyholland
Rev. MAGUIRE and Rev. P. M’KENNA Monaghan
Rev. P. M’CUSKER and Rev James KELLY, Truagh
Rev. J. M’DONNELL, Monaghan
Rev. P. DUFFY, Tydavenet
Rev. J M’GEOGH, Fintona
Rev. T. CASSIDY, Clogher, &c.
James M’KENNA Esq. solicitor, Monaghan
Mr. CERNAN Esq. sub sheriff of Monaghan
Mr. JACKSON Esq. Monaghan
Mr VALLELY, Mrs VALLELY and family
Mrs HIGGINS
D. HORNER Esq.
Mr. M’QUADE
Mr. J. ARMSTRONG
Mr. P M’CULLOCH
James MONTGOMERY Esq. and Son, Garvy
Thomas MONTGOMERY Esq., Aughnacloy
Messrs. BRIDGES, do
Mr. GRIMES, do
Dr. M’CLEAN, Ballybay
Miss O’REILLY, Ballyhase
Mr. N. REILLY, Caledon
Mr. RYAN, Glasslough
For a considerable period previous to the commencement of the sermon the audience was greatly gratified by the performance of the Monaghan teetotal band. This is one of the largest and best bands that we have seen. The members are dressed very pretty uniform, consisting of dark blue jackets, white trousers, blue caps with yellow bands, and light blue kerchiefs. They are a highly respectable body, and their performance of superior order. (Newry Examiner)
11 Nov. 1882 A Monaghan Legend
In the churchyard of Erigle Truagh there is said to be a spirit which appears to persons whose families are interred there. Whenever a person meets with it, it is to him an omen of death. In the case of a young man, it will appear as a beautiful female, who, after kissing the victim, will extract a promise of another meeting in a month from the appearance. The victim will subsequently sink into despair, die, and be buried on the day fixed for the meeting. Two instances are recorded where the alleged fatal kiss has been given. The spirit, which can change its sex, will also sometimes appear at funerals, weddings, and dances, and secure its victims by dancing them into pleuritic fevers. (Bradford Weekly Telegraph)
Page transcribed & compiled by Teena from the noted resources and
‘The Ballad Poetry of Ireland’ edited by Sir Charles Gavan Duffy 1866
Drawing of William Carleton from the ‘Life of William Carleton, being his autobiography and letters’ 1896 https://bit.ly/2JLd8at
Photograph of Errigal Truagh Old Church West Gable by Andreas F. Borchert https://bit.ly/3arzFot