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Who dare set bounds to the Red Wind,
The East Wind in his wrath?
Lo! we have bitted and bridled him,
And turned him from his path:
From the waves that beat we have called his feet
To the long grass of the rath.
He hath heard our call through his tempest fall,
And he maketh no delay,
Though the house of the Dawn's his homestead,
Yet there he will not stay:
And the voice that compels his coming
Is neither of night nor day.
The voice blows out of the twilight,
As thistle-drift is blown,
It's light, and tender, and merry,
And the seeds that its call has sown
Are sin, and desire, and sorrow,
And the world hears, and moves on.
From his wings we've ta'en the scarlet stain,
The red plumes from his crest:
We've snatched from his hands the sea-pinks
Wherewith his cliffs were drest:
We have fed our fire to heart's desire,
With the bird that beat in his breast.
Ay, we ha' bridled the red East Wind
With none to say him Nay —
With his heart's blood red our fires we fed
That the sword might be swift to slay,
And the ashes at last to his own wind cast,
That they might be blown away.
For we are the dark Formoroh,
And sore we travail that ye
May cast off care, and grow strong and fair,
And still our bondsmen be:
We shall enter in your souls, our kin,
And who shall our slaying see?
Nora Hopper Chesson’s Song of the Fomoroh is a haunting exploration of power, subjugation, and the paradoxical interplay between chaos and control within Irish mythological frameworks. Written during the Celtic Revival, the poem reimagines the Fomorians-ancient deities of chaos and blight-as manipulative forces who weaponize natural elements to ensnare humanity. Through vivid imagery, layered symbolism, and a subversive narrative voice, Chesson interrogates themes of dominance, cyclical violence, and the psychological cost of complicity in one’s own oppression. This analysis situates the poem within its historical and cultural context, unpacks its literary devices, and examines its enduring emotional resonance.
The Fomorians, as chaotic antagonists in Irish mythology, represent primordial forces of destruction and disorder29. Traditionally depicted as monstrous beings battling the Tuatha Dé Danann, they symbolize nature’s untamable wrath and the existential threats facing early Irish settlers29. Chesson, a key figure in the Irish Literary Revival, recontextualizes these figures not merely as external threats but as insidious manipulators who infiltrate the human psyche. Her Anglo-Irish heritage-born to an Irish father and English mother-infuses the poem with tension between colonial power dynamics and cultural identity611. The Fomorians’ assertion, “We shall enter in your souls, our kin,” mirrors the psychological internalization of oppression, a theme resonant with Ireland’s colonial struggles during Chesson’s lifetime11.
Chesson employs visceral imagery and personification to animate the Fomorians’ dominion over natural forces:
The Red Wind as a Symbol of Subjugated Power
The East Wind, initially a wild force (“Who dare set bounds to the Red Wind”), is “bitted and bridled” by the Fomorians, its primal energy redirected toward destructive ends. This metaphor evokes the colonial exploitation of natural and human resources, with the wind’s transformation symbolizing how chaos is harnessed into systemic violence. The stripping of its “scarlet stain” and “red plumes” parallels the erasure of innate vitality under oppressive regimes9.
Twilight as a Liminal Space
The “voice that compels” the wind’s obedience emerges from twilight-a threshold between day and night, order and chaos. This liminality reflects the Fomorians’ role as boundary-crossers who exploit ambiguity to infiltrate human consciousness. The “seeds” they sow-“sin, and desire, and sorrow”-flourish in this indeterminate space, suggesting how moral corruption thrives in societal transitions9.
Fire and Ashes: Cycles of Destruction
The Fomorians feed their fire with the “bird that beat in [the wind’s] breast,” a grisly metaphor for consuming life force to fuel violence. The final image of ashes scattered by the wind (“blown away”) underscores the inevitability of cyclical destruction, where even remnants of conquest are erased by the very forces manipulated to enact it.
The Fomorians claim their cruelty serves to make humanity “grow strong and fair”-a perverse inversion of the felix culpa (fortunate fall) motif. By framing oppression as a necessary crucible, Chesson critiques systems of power that justify exploitation as a path to strength. This duality echoes Friedrich Nietzsche’s concept of “will to power,” where destruction becomes a means of self-overcoming, yet here it is weaponized by external forces rather than embraced autonomously9.
The poem’s closing lines-“We shall enter in your souls, our kin”-reveal the Fomorians’ ultimate victory: not mere physical domination but psychological colonization. This mirrors postcolonial theorist Frantz Fanon’s analysis of how the oppressed internalize the values of their oppressors, perpetuating cycles of subjugation9. The Fomorians’ manipulation of the wind-a natural, life-sustaining force-into an instrument of death parallels how cultural or ideological systems distort innate human instincts toward self-destructive ends.
Chesson subverts the Fomorians’ traditional role as external antagonists by positioning them as architects of human folly. Their bridling of the wind mirrors humanity’s Faustian quest to control nature, only to be enslaved by the tools of that control. The poem’s refrain-like structure (“Ay, we ha’ bridled the red East Wind”) evokes a chilling pride in this pyrrhic victory, underscoring the hubris inherent in domination29.
Chesson’s Fomorians diverge sharply from W.B. Yeats’ portrayal in The Madness of King Goll, where they represent impersonal forces of “night and death and cold”45. While Yeats’ Fomorians are environmental threats, Chesson’s are actively manipulative, reflecting her interest in psychological and societal corruption. This aligns with her broader oeuvre, such as The Dark Man, which explores how supernatural forces exploit human vulnerabilities8.
The poem also resonates with Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein in its exploration of creation turning against the creator. Just as Victor Frankenstein’s monster embodies the consequences of unchecked ambition, the Fomorians’ controlled wind becomes a “swift sword” that ultimately consumes its masters9.
The poem’s relentless cadence and visceral imagery-“With his heart’s blood red our fires we fed”-create a claustrophobic atmosphere of inescapable doom. By giving voice to the Fomorians, Chesson forces readers to confront the seductive logic of oppression: the promise of strength through suffering, order through violence. This resonates in modern contexts, from systemic inequality to environmental exploitation, where destructive systems are often framed as necessary evils.
The absence of a human perspective amplifies the horror; we witness only the Fomorians’ triumph, leaving the fate of their “bondsmen” ominously unresolved. This open-endedness invites readers to interrogate their own complicity in cycles of power and subjugation.
Song of the Fomoroh transcends its mythological roots to offer a searing commentary on power dynamics, both cosmic and human. Chesson’s mastery of symbolic language and her innovative reworking of Irish lore position the poem as a cornerstone of Celtic Revival literature, while its thematic depth ensures contemporary relevance. By framing the Fomorians not as mere monsters but as architects of systemic violence, she challenges readers to recognize the insidious ways chaos is weaponized-and the peril of mistaking subjugation for strength. In an age grappling with ideological extremism and ecological crisis, the poem’s warning against harnessing primal forces for domination rings with urgent clarity.
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