A toast for Cairbre

My Lords and Ladies, I bid you to fill your cups and attend my words.

I remember hearing Cairbre recite his toast to An Tir. Filled with thunder as he recited the virtues of a distant land filled with beauty and honor. I remember the swelling strength of his voice as he raised his cup and cried forth:

"My Lords and Ladies, I bid you open your eyes - I give you that fabled land. I give you AN TIR!"

But never more will that voice ring across the land. From the crashing seas to the highest mountain it echoes only in memory.

I remember being inspired by the voice and that gift of a passport to a land of dreams to essay a few small attempts of my own into the art of toasts and toasting, some even well received.

I remember that twinkle in his eye and laughter lurking in his voice as he prepared to deliver a jest or to return as well as he was given.

But tonight, the eternal stars will shine undimmed and steady lest they be shamed by competing with that memory. The songbirds passing south with the summer take wing with their voices held low lest they be mistaken for his laughter.

I take this cup I have filled with bitter tears and pour it untasted upon the ground. Instead, I will lift a cup to happier times and gentle memory.

It would be unseemly to remember him with silence whose voice and words inspired so many. Instead, I bid you thus:

"My Lord and Ladies, I give you my small toast and bid you join me in remembering joy and inspiration as balance against the pain.

To Cairbre."

Done this day, October 9th Anno Societatis 44, in memory of Cairbre macc Eochada micc Fedelmid.
Theodoric the Scholar.

Permission is granted to repeat far and wide so long as proper credit is given.

PS - Rowan, I hope you forgive the liberty. Today I speak from the heart, and regret that I have erred and not stayed in contact with you and Jeff as I should have. I am often clumsy at such things.