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She's
an Irish faery, a mortal princess, a butterfly, and
a swan.
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Painting of faeries from the
Horace Mann Readers: Fourth
Reader (artist unknown). Image
from Art
Today.
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Her
Legend:
They
say plants bloom when Etain (or Edain)
emerges, and go dormant when she retreats.
Her story is old and beautiful and
complex. Here's very oversimplified
summary. (Taken from the slightly longer
summery on the Irish
singer
Enya's
web site.
I've
been an Enya fan since the Clannad
days.)
Back
when the faeries lived in fabulous houses
built inside Irish hills, Midir the Faery
King spotted a beautiful faery maiden. He
fell in love with her. But his wife was
jealous. She had Etain turned into a
butterfly. She made a storm blow her away,
far from the palace.
For seven years, Etain the butterfly flew
around the country, until she was found by
another faery king. He recognized her for
who she was and gave her safe haven in his
palace, though he could not change her
back. Midir's wife found out where she was
and raised another storm which blew her
away again. Right into a feast, where she
fell into a glass of wine and was consumed
by a mortal queen.
Nine months later, Etain was reborn. She
grew up a princess and married the High
King of Ireland. She lived a happy life
until, one day Midir, out riding, spotted
her. She didn't know him, but he, with the
Sight of the Faery, knew her.
He challenged the High King to three games
of chess, and won a kiss from Etain. She
recognized him as her old love. But the
High King wouldn't give her up. Midir
stole her away then, and they flew off,
disguised as two swans.
A
Poem from "The Wooing of Etain"
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"This is Etain here today
at Sid Ban Find west of Ailbe,
among little boys is she
on the brink of Inber Cichmaine.
She it is who healed the King's eye
from the well of Loch Da Lig:
she it is that was swallowed in a
drink
from a beaker by Etar's wife.
Because of her the King shall chase
the birds from Tethba,
and drown his two steeds
in the pool of Loch Da Airbrech.
Full many a war shall be
on Eochaid of Meath because of thee:
there shall be destruction of
elfmounds,
and battle against many thousands.
'Tis she that was sung of (?) in the
land;
'tis she that strives to win the King;
'tis she...(?) Be Find,
She is our Etain afterwards."
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(The
translation of this poem from "The Wooing of Etain"
that is reproduced here was published in 1937, and to
the best of my knowledge is in the public domain.)
What
She Can Mean to You and Me:
Etain's
been enspelled, captured, swallowed in a glass of wine
and bartered. She's died and been born again. None of
it was her own doing. But even as a butterfly, she did
not simply lie down and give up. She flew for seven
years.
Etain is no stranger to change and transformation. No
stranger to riding the waves the storm of life brings
her. Maybe that's why you're here, sitting beside her.
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Painting
of faeries from "My Book House" by Maude-Miska Petersham.
Image from Art
Today.
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