10th April 2020. Today's photographic blog remembers a man who loved his hometown of Ballyshannon and put it on the map. Recommended!
11th April 2020 Tomorrow. The Last Duel Fought in Ballyshannon and current links.
Adieu
to Belashanny! where I was bred and born;
Go
where I may, I’ll think of you, as sure as night and morn.
The
kindly spot, the friendly town, where every one is known,
And
not a face in all the place but partly seems my own;
There’s
not a house or window, there’s not a field or hill,
But,
east or west, in foreign lands, I’ll recollect them still.
I
leave my warm heart with you, Tho my back I’m forced to turn-
Adieu
to Belashanny, and the winding banks of Erne!
William Allingham wrote this poem above, about his hometown, and he put Ballyshannon on the map a century and more ago. Much of his early work was about his native area and his most famous local emigrant's ballad from which the verse above is taken was "Adieu to Ballyshanny" also called "The Winding Banks of Erne". The poem sums up his love of place as he recalls lots of the places of his youth in the town.
No
more on pleasant evenings we’ll saunter
down the Mall,
When the trout is rising to the fly, the salmon to the fall.
When the trout is rising to the fly, the salmon to the fall.
 |
The
music of the waterfall, the mirror of the tide,
When
all the green-hill’d harbour is full from side to side,
From
Portnasun to Bulliebawns, and round the Abbey Bay,
From
rocky Inis Saimer to Coolnargit sandhills gray
|
 | ||
Farewell to you, Kildoney lads, and them that pull an oar,
A lug - sail set, or haul a net, from the Point to Mullaghmore
From Killybegs to bold Slieve-League, that ocean-mountain steep,
Six hundred yards in air aloft, six hundred in the deep,
From Dooran to the Fairy Bridge, and round by Tullen strand,
Level and long, and white with waves, where gull and curlew stand;
Head out to sea when on your lee the breakers you discern!-
Adieu to all the billowy coast, and winding banks of Erne!
|
From
inland homes to see with joy th’ Atlantic-setting sun;
To
breathe the buoyant salted air, and sport among the waves;
To
gather shells on sandy beach, and tempt the gloomy caves;
Farewell
to every white cascade from the Harbour to Belleek
T The
thrush will call through Camlin groves the live-long summer day;
Now
measure from the Commons down to each end of the Purt,
Round
the Abbey, Moy, and Knather,- I wish no one any hurt;
The
Main Street, Back Street, College Lane, the Mall, and Portnasun,
If
any foes of mine are there, I pardon every one.
If
ever I’m a money’d man, I mean, please God, to cast
My
golden anchor in the place where youthful years were pass’d;
Though
heads that now are black and brown must meanwhile gather gray,
New
faces rise by every hearth, and old ones drop away-
Yet
dearer still that Irish hill than all the world beside;
It’s
home, sweet home, where’er I roam through lands and waters wide
And
if the Lord allows me, I surely will return
To
my native Belashanny, and the winding banks of Erne.
 |
Abbey Assaroe today 170 years after William Allingham wrote
his well-remembered poem.
|
Abbey Assaroe
Gray, gray is Abbey
Assaroe by Belashanny town,
It has neither door
nor window,the walls are broken down;
The carven-stones lie
scater’d in briar and nettle-bed;
The only feet are
those that come at burial of the dead.
A little rocky
rivulet runs murmuring to the tide,
Singing a song of
ancient days,in sorrow, not in pride;
The boortree and the
lightsome ash across the portal grow,
And heaven itself is
now the roof of Abbey Assaroe.
The little old Town where I was born has a Voice of its own, low,
solemn, persistent, humming through
the air day and night, summer and winter.
Whenever I think of that Town, I seem to hear the Voice. The
River which makes
it, rolls over rocky ledges into the tide; before, spreads a great Ocean in
sunshine or storm; behind, stretches a many-islanded Lake.
 |
Helen Allingham renowned artist.
see recent blog
|
 |
| William Allingham portrait by Helen Allingham |
 |
| Helen Allingham's painting of two of their children |
William Allingham’s Final Journey to Ballyshannon
 |
| William Allingham's birthplace on the Mall. |
On the 17th November 1889 in his home at Eldon Road in Hampshire,
England, as he was in a weak condition, William Allingham, was
asked if he had any request to make, he replied: “No, my mind is at
rest”. Then to his wife he said: “And so, to where I wait, come gently
on”. Once on the morning of his death he said; “I am seeing things
that you know nothing of”. He died peacefully about 2 o’clock on Monday
18th November.
At his own request he was cremated at Woking. A few friends and relations were present. There was no funeral service. Mr. F.G. Stephens, the oldest of his friends there gathered together, read aloud Allingham’s own Poet’s Epitaph.
Body to purifying
flame,
Soul to the Great
Deep whence it came,
Leaving a song on
earth below,
An urn of ashes white
as snow.
William Allingham’s ashes were interred at St. Anne’s Church on Mullaghnashee
in his native Ballyshannon with the following simple inscription on his
gravestone-
 |
William Allingham is buried at St. Anne's Church on the hilltop
in his hometown.
|
William Allingham, Poet, born at
Ballyshannon
March 19 1824. Died in London, November
1889.
The plaque on the bridge in memory of the Bard of Ballyshannon recalls his early life in the kindly spot, the friendly town.
Here once he roved a
happy boy
Along the winding
banks of Erne
And now please God
with finer joy
A fairer world his eyes discern.William Allingham never really left Ballyshannon although he lived in England for many years. His ambition to return to his native Ballyshannon is clearly in his mind in the final verse of his great poem on his hometown.
If ever I’m a money’d man, I mean, please God, to cast
My golden anchor in the place where youthful years were
pass’d;
Though heads that now are black and brown must meanwhile
gather gray,
New faces rise by every hearth, and old ones drop away-
Yet dearer still that Irish hill than all the world
beside;
It’s home, sweet home, where’er I roam through lands and
waters wide.
And if the Lord allows me, I surely will return
To my native Belashanny and the winding banks of Erne
"The Winding Banks of Erne"
By William Allingham
 | |
|
Makes one nostalgic to read this lovely poem with so many townlands named and he included beloved Portnason twice.
ReplyDeleteWilliam really loved everywhere around the area especially along the riverside in places like Portnason. He had his wish when he was buried in his beloved Ballyshannon.
DeleteAmazing how much local knowledge he had. From The Fairy Bridges to Tullan Strand . We didn’t know everywhere when we were growing up even though we were full of curiosity. How did he get around to all these places. He knew the town backwards.
ReplyDeleteHi Ria he was a great walker and loved meeting the people at their homesteads. His wife Helen was of a similar type who loved the outdoors also. William got much of his inspiration from his homeland and from the people he met.
ReplyDelete