"Pangur Bán" is an Old Irish poem, written about the 9th century at or around Reichenau Abbey. It was written by an Irish monk, and is about his cat. Pangur Bán, 'White Pangur', is the cat's name, Pangur meaning 'a fuller'. Although the poem is anonymous, it bears similarities to the poetry of Sedulius Scottus, prompting speculation that Sedulius is the author. In eight verses of four lines each, the author compares the cat's happy hunting with his own scholarly pursuits. The poem is preserved in the Reichenau Primer and now kept in St. Paul's Abbey in the Lavanttal.
Background
The poem is found in only one text, the Reichenauer Schulheft or Reichenau Primer. The primer appears to be the notebook of an Irish monk based in Reichenauer Abbey. The contents of the primer are diverse, it also contains "notes from a commentary of the Aeneid, some hymns, a brief glossary of Greek words, some Greek declension, notes on biblical places, a tract on the nature of angels, and some astronomy".
Poem
Original Old Irish version
Messe ocus Pangur Bán, cechtar nathar fria saindán; bíth a menma-sam fri seilgg, mu menma céin im saincheirdd Caraim-se fos, ferr cach clú, oc mu lebrán léir ingnu; ní foirmtech frimm Pangur bán, caraid cesin a maccdán. Ó ru·biam — scél cen scís — innar tegdais ar n-óendís, táithiunn — díchríchide clius — ní fris tarddam ar n-áthius. Gnáth-húaraib ar gressaib gal glenaid luch inna lín-sam; os mé, du·fuit im lín chéin dliged n-doraid cu n-dronchéill. Fúachid-sem fri frega fál a rosc anglése comlán; fúachimm chéin fri fégi fis mu rosc réil, cesu imdis, Fáelid-sem cu n-déne dul hi·n-glen luch inna gérchrub; hi·tucu cheist n-doraid n-dil, os mé chene am fáelid. Cía beimmi amin nach ré, ní·derban cách ar chéle. Maith la cechtar nár a dán, subaigthius a óenurán. Hé fesin as choimsid dáu in muid du·n-gní cach óenláu; du thabairt doraid du glé for mu mud céin am messe.
Translated from the Irish by Robin Flower:
'The scholar and His Cat, Pangur Bán' I and Pangur Ban my cat, Tis a like task we are at: Hunting mice is his delight, Hunting words I sit all night. Better far than praise of men Tis to sit with book and pen; Pangur bears me no ill-will, He too plies his simple skill. Tis a merry task to see At our tasks how glad are we, When at home we sit and find Entertainment to our mind. Oftentimes a mouse will stray In the hero Pangur's way; Oftentimes my keen thought set Takes a meaning in its net. Gainst the wall he sets his eye Full and fierce and sharp and sly; 'Gainst the wall of knowledge I All my little wisdom try. When a mouse darts from its den, O how glad is Pangur then! O what gladness do I prove When I solve the doubts I love! So in peace our task we ply, Pangur Ban, my cat, and I; In our arts we find our bliss, I have mine and he has his. Practice every day has made Pangur perfect in his trade; I get wisdom day and night Turning darkness into light.
English translation by W. H. Auden:
Pangur, white Pangur, How happy we are Alone together, scholar and cat Each has his own work to do daily; For you it is hunting, for me study. Your shining eye watches the wall; My feeble eye is fixed on a book. You rejoice, when your claws entrap a mouse; I rejoice when my mind fathoms a problem. Pleased with his own art, neither hinders the other; Thus we live ever without tedium and envy.
