The Magic of Uaithne, the Dagda’s Harp: Myth, Music, and Modern Revelations
Firstly, let me tell you how this started out and then I want to let you know about a wonderful discovery I made.
This is my drawing of Uaithne, the Dagda’s harp, and I was originally planning to have it ready for Saint Patrick’s Day, but time slipped away.
Fadó, fadó (a long time ago)
The reason for this plan was because I liked the idea that the harp, being such a well-known symbol of Ireland and highly appropriate for Saint Patrick’s Day - the most-Irish of celebrations worldwide - was also a very well recognised symbol in Ireland long before Saint Patrick was around, in the form of stories.
So it’s deeply grounded in Irish culture.
A very long time ago, when the tradition of storytelling could probably be considered the Instagram of its day, stories of the Dagda’s harp were widespread in Ireland.
Let me tell you one of the well-known stories about Uaithne that I absolutely love.
My version of the story in a nutshell:
Fadó, fadó (a long time ago) the Dagda, the father God of the Tuatha Dé Danann in Irish mythology, treasured Uaithne, a magical harp that only made music when he played it.
He played it for his men when they went into battle and it made them forget their fears and head into the battle rearing to go!
In one battle, his enemies, the Formorians lost the fight. Yet they felt somewhat victorious because they stole Uaithne.
They knew of its power, but they obviously didn’t fully appreciate quite how powerful it was, because...
When the Dagda came to retrieve his treasured harp, he used it to overpower them.
Firstly, he summoned it to his hand, and it flew across the air to him and killed 9 of the Formorians on the way. Much like Thor’s hammer!
Then he played the Gentraighe, which made the Formorians laugh and dance despite themselves. Their weapons slipped from their hands.
Next, he played the Goltraighe, causing all of them to cry with such sadness and despair that they couldn’t see properly.
He promptly followed it up with the Suantraighe, which made each and every one who heard it fall into a deep sleep.
So off the Dagda went without a scrape on him and Uaithne was safely back in his hands.
My discovery:
Now here’s the wonderful little nugget I learned while doing this research:
Gentraighe in modern Gaeilge (Irish language) is geantraí, meaning lively music.
Goltraighe is goltraí, meaning sad music.
And Suantraighe is suantraí, which translates to a lullaby.
Then I discovered that Gaelgéoir (Irish speaker) and journalist, Deasún Breatnach, discussed if Geantraí, Goltraí and Suantraí is a living tradition in this article in The Journal of Music from 2002.
Spoiler alert - he concluded “Yes, the tradition lives”, which was music to my ears - pun very much intended!
I recommend reading the article, he’s far more articulate than I am.
Isn’t that great?
This way of thinking about music exists in myths that stretch back into prehistory.
Of course things have evolved and changed, but I love that you can see the links between us in modern-day and our ancient ancestors.
As a bonus, Gaeilge is a significant part of the thread too.
My process
Uaithne was said to be made from wood and was ornately decorated with gold.
So for my version of this iconic musical instrument, I imagined what it would look like if we could see it now.
And seeing as stories of the Dagda are fadó, fadó (from long, long ago), I’ve put hints of gold on the somewhat worn and battered but cherished and powerful harp.
Work In Progress…
Here are some ‘Work In Progress’ images…
I started out by drawing the line art.
I then started shading it but when I did that, it looked like it was made from metal instead of wood.
I quite liked the look of it, but I wanted it to look like wood.
So instead, I went straight to colouring it and added touches of worn ‘gold’ then finally shading it in more appropriate colours to finish it off.
I really like my imagined version of Uaithne.
It is available for a sale on my website as printables & digital wallpaper and on a mug with a little description of Uaithne on it. I think they make lovely gift for fans of Irish mythology.
Keeping it alive
I like to think that as I create my version of Uaithne, and as we talk about these things, we are all playing our parts in keeping that connection to our deep roots alive.
I hope this little journey through myth and music makes you smile, just as it did for me!
