Her Lasting Light

Her Lasting Light

Ethna Carbery—born Anna Johnston in Ballymena in 1866—belongs to the luminous generation of writers who shaped Ireland’s cultural and national awakening at the turn of the 20th century. Though her life was heartbreakingly short, her poetry is filled with a fierce tenderness for Ireland—its landscape, its stories, and its long struggle for freedom. Today she is remembered as one of the defining female voices of the Irish Literary Revival.

Raised in a home alive with patriotism—her father was the Fenian Seamus Johnston—Carbery grew up listening to stories of rebellion, sacrifice, and Irish resilience. These influences shaped her writing from the start. Her poetry bears the emotional signature of this upbringing. In one of her most renowned poems, Roddy McCorley, she captures not romantic affection but the stark bravery of a young man walking toward his death:

"Up the narrow street he stepped, so smiling, proud and young,
About the hemp-rope on his neck, the golden ringlets clung;
There's ne'er a tear in his blue eyes, fearless and brave are they,
As young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today."

This blend of devotion, longing, and quiet fire is the hallmark of her work.

Carbery’s close creative partnership with Alice Milligan was central to her legacy. Together they founded The Shan Van Vocht, a nationalist and literary journal that gave a platform to Irish writers north and south. Carbery’s poems—often written under her pen name—were a highlight of each issue. Her work in the journal pushed forward a larger revival of Irish folklore and storytelling. She helped awaken the North to its own cultural inheritance.

Another beloved poem, “The Passing of the Gael,” mourns the loss of the Irish people driven into exile:

"They are going, going, going from the valleys and the hills,
They are leaving far behind them heathery moor and mountain rills,
All the wealth of hawthorn hedges where the brown thrush sways and trills."

"They are going, shy-eyed colleens and lads so straight and tall,
From the purple peaks of Kerry, from the crags of wild Imaal,
From the greening plains of Mayo and the glens of Donegal."

Few writers of her generation captured exile with such simplicity, sorrow, and dignity.

Carbery wrote not only about patriotism but also about the everyday tenderness and sorrow of human life. In “Mo Chraoibhín Cnó,” a love poem full of gentle longing, she writes:

The little waves creep whispering where sedges fold you in,
And round you are the barrows of your buried kith and kin;
Oh! famine-wasted, fever-burnt, they faded like the snow
Or set their hearts to meet the steel–for you,
Mo Chraoibhin Cno!

The silver speech our fathers knew shall once again be heard;
The fire-lit story, crooning song, sweeter than lilt of bird;
Your quicken-tree shall break in flower, its ruddy fruit shall glow,
And the Gentle People dance beneath its shade–
Mo Chraoibhin Cno!

There shall be peace and plenty–the kindly open door;
Blessings on all who come and go–the prosperous or the poor–
The misty glens and purple hills a fairer tint shall show,
When your splendid Sun shall ride the skies again–
Mo Chraoibhin Cno!

These lines show her ability to infuse Irish idiom with pure lyrical light.

In 1901, Ethna Carbery married Seumas MacManus, the Donegal writer and folklorist. Their happiness was heartbreakingly brief—Carbery died in 1902 at just 35 years old. Devastated yet devoted, MacManus devoted himself to gathering and publishing her writings, ensuring that her voice would continue to be heard long after her passing. The Four Winds of Eirinn soon became one of the most cherished books of the Irish Literary Revival. Ethna’s warm love for Ireland and her people shines through every page.

Seumas MacManus himself went on to become one of the most influential Irish storytellers of the early 20th century. A proud son of Donegal, he devoted his life to preserving the folklore, history, and spirit of the Irish people. His most enduring work, The Story of the Irish Race (1921), became a beloved classic for generations of Irish families both at home and throughout the diaspora.

Written in a warm, fireside style, the book offered a sweeping tale of Ireland’s ancient beginnings—its heroes, saints, scholars, struggles, and triumphs. For countless readers, especially Irish Americans, it provided their first meaningful entry into Irish history. Priests recommended it to parishioners, teachers used it in classrooms, and parents passed it down to their children like an heirloom.

Ethna dedicated one of her best-loved poems, “Páistín Fionn” (“Fair Child”), to her husband, Seumas.

Páistín Fionn

O, Páistín Fionn, but it vexed her sore,

The day you turned from your mother's door

For the wide gray sea, and the strife and din

That lie beyond, where the ships go in.

There was always peace in the little town–

The kindly neighbours went up and down,

With a word to you, and a word to me,

And a helping hand where need might be.

The sheltering hills and the rainbow skies,

Set the dreams alight in your boyish eyes,

And the shrill sweet singing from every brake

Stirred in your heart a restless ache.

So you left our glens, and our fishful streams,

To follow the lure of your boyish dreams:

Through the lonely cities you wander long,

Far from the moors and the blackbird's song.

Has the world been good to you, Páistín Fionn

Has the yellow gold that you sought to win

Been worth the toil and the danger dared?

Has plenty blessed you and sorrow spared?

Your mother sits in the dusk alone,

And croons old songs in an undertone,

Old cradle-songs that your childhood knew,

When her folding arms made a world for you.

Her sad heart, loving and hoping on,

Awaits your footsteps from dark to dawn–

The thin cheeks paler and paler grow,

With hunger for you as the hours drift slow.

Then, Páistín Fionn, come back, come back–

A homebound bird o'er the glancing track;

The door is open–the hearth is red–

And our love is calling you, Dear Fair Head.