Short Fiction of Flann O'Brien (Irish Literature) Read Online Free Page B

and stampede; and proceeded, nimbly, boldly, speedily, and witlessly, without cease nor delay, to the obscure unknown cities and to the tangled, knotty dark forests: and to every other place that could provide shelter in the kingdom of Dublin.
    D AISIES!
    However, the opposing warrior continued to rush straight on, sprinting after Seán and all of his companions, and it was not long before he reached the end of his journey, and he came into the presence of Seán and the brave, steadfast men of Éireann (as many of them as were in that spot at the time, anyway), right in the dim, misty centre of the wood. 5 Beautiful Seán Mac Cumhaill was at that time deftly, dextrously, daintily gathering daisies, and putting them together in the form of a chain, whistling gently and sweetly all the while.
    I W ILL S TAY!
    Indeed, when he saw the strange giant coming at him, a swell of wonder and anxiety 6 seized him, he blessed him with words lavish, lofty and lionhearted, inquired after his health and well-being, and gave him leave for lecturing, speechifying, and oratory. The giant grumpily beheld Seán and all his companions, bared his protracted, primitive, pointy teeth, moved his grisly, grimy gums, and spoke:
    “O King of the Gaels!” said he, hardly, bitterly, and without humility.
    “Seán Mac Cumhaill, son of Airt son of Tréanmhóir of the Lineage of Baoisgne is my name,” replied the vigorous leader of the Gaels.
    “‘Sean’?” said the giant.
    “No, actually,” Seán said, having perceived the Roman print, “it’s Seán .” 7
    “ John Bull is my name,” the giant responded.
    “The best thing for you to do now,” Seán Mac Cumhaill said, “is to take yourself back to whichever region of the world you came from.”
    “It is true that I will not,” the giant said, sneering, “but I will remain in this place as long as I have the will and the desire to do so.”
    “I have never been in the habit,” Seán said, “of socialising or cohabiting in the same spot with the likes of you, and I’m not about to start doing so now.”
    “Exactly, well said!” said one of the Gaelic noblemen in the depths of the woods, clapping.
    “I beg to differ,” said John Bull.
    “Well, now,” said another Gael in the depths of the woods.
    W HAT H E W ANTS
    “I am John Bull,” the giant announced, boldly and fervently, “and as much of the world as I have walked since departing my homeland, I have thus far not left one country, atoll, or island without demanding tribute from them, or bringing them beneath the dominion of my excise duties and the abject slavery of my tariffs: and it is my desire for the dominion and taxation of this territory to be mine as well, along with the misery of all its people, and to bring Gaelic poverty and servitude to the seven tribes of the Gaels and to the seven tribes of the Common Gaels with the heavy axe of those tariffs; that is my ambition for this kingdom.”
    “I understand,” replied Seán Mac Cumhaill, leader of the Gaels.
    A M AN WITH E NGLISH!
    “That being said,” the repulsive mongrel of a giant continued, “if any of your heroes can be troubled to prove to me that Gaelic has great literature, or that there is one courageous, cultivated, clever, courtly, courteous, consummate author among you, or that the noble, ancient tongue of the Saxon is alive, however much of it is left, in some corner of Ireland, I will not do one thing more to trouble ye, but take myself back to my own land without delay.”
    “We have as many great authors and great works as you’d like.”
    “Recite the titles for me,” the giant said.
    “There’s Yesterday and Today ,” said Seán Mac Cumhaill, “and Heavy and Light .”
    “There’s Dusk and Dawn ,” said another Gaelic noble.
    “There’s Old and New ,” another Gael said.
    “There’s Day and Night .”
    “There’s Love and Gloom .” 8
    “If that’s the case,” said the giant, “then it seems that all those well-read works are