The Instructions of King Cormac
translated by Kuno Meyer

"O Cormac, grandson of Conn", said Carbery, "what are the dues of a chief and of an ale-house?"
"Not hard to tell", said Cormac
Good behaviour around a good chief,
Lights to lamps
Exerting oneself for the company
A proper settlement of seats
Liberality of dispensers,
A nimble hand at distributing
Attentive service
Music in moderation
Short story-telling
A joyous countenance
Welcome to guests
Silence during recitals
Harmonious choruses

"O Cormac, grandson of Conn", said Carbery, "What were your habits when you were a lad?"
"Not hard to tell", said Cormac.
I was a listener in woods
I was a gazer at stars
I was blind where secrets were concerned
I was silent in a wilderness
I was talkative among many
I was mild in the mead-hall
I was stern in battle
I was gentle towards allies
I was a physician of the sick
I was weak towards the feeble
I was strong towards the powerful
I was not close lest I should be burdensome
I was not arrogant though I was wise
I was not given to promising though I was strong
I was not venturesome though I was swift
I did not deride the old though I was young
I was not boastful though I was a good fighter
I would not speak about any one in his absence
I would not reproach, but I would praise
I would not ask, but I would give
For it is through these habits that the young become old and kingly warriors."

"O Cormac, grandson of Conn", said Carbery, "What is the worst thing you have seen?"
"Not hard to tell", said Cormac, "Faces of foes in the rout of battle".
"O Cormac, grandson of Conn", said Carbery, "What is the sweetest thing you have heared?"
"Not hard to tell", said Cormac, "The shout of triumph after victory, Praise after wages, A lady's invitation to her pillow."

"O Cormac, grandson of Conn", said Carbery, "What is worst for the body of man?"
"Not hard to tell", said Cormac. "Sitting too long, lying too long, exerting oneself beyod one's strength, running too much, leaping too much, frequent falls, sleeping with one's leg over the bed rail, gazing at glowing embers, wax, bee-stings, new ale, bull-flesh, curdles, dry food, bog-water, rising too early, cold, sun, hunger, drinking too much, eating too much, sleeping too much, sinning too much, grief, running up to a height, shouting against the wind, drying oneself by a fire, summer-dew, winter-dew, beating ashes, swimming on a full stomach, sleeping on one's back, foolish romping."

"O Cormac, grandson of Conn", said Carbery, "What is the worst pleading and arguing?"
"Not hard to tell", said Cormac.
Contending against knowledge,
contending without proofs
taking refuge in bad language
a stiff delivery
a muttering speech
hair - splitting
uncertain proofs,
despising books
turning against custom
shifting one's pleading
inciting the mob
blowing one's own trumpet
shouting at the top of one's voice.

"O Cormac, grandson of Conn", said Carbery, "Who are the worst for whom you have a comparison?"
"Not hard to tell", said Cormac.
A man with the impudence of a satirist,
with the pugnacity of a slave-woman
with the carelessness of a dog
with the conscience of a hound
with a robber's hand
with a bull's strength
with the dignity of a judge
with keen ingenous wisdom
with the speech of a stately man
with the memory of an historian
with the behavoir of an abbot
with the swearing of a horse-thief
and he wise, lying, grey-haired, violent, swearing, garrulous, when he says 'the matter is settled, I swear, you shall swear'.

"O Cormac, grandson of Conn", said Carbery, "I desire to know how I shall behave among the wise and the foolish, among friends and strangers, among the old and the young, among the innocent and the wicked."
"Not hard to tell", said Cormac.
Be not too wise, be not too foolish
be not too conceited, nor too diffident
be not too haughty, nor too humble
be not too talkative, nor too silent
be not too hard, nor too feeble
If you be too wise, one will expect too much of you
If you be foolish, you will be decieved
If you be too conceited, you will be thought vexatious
If you be too humble, you will be without honour
If you be too talkative, you will not be heeded
If you be too silent, you will not be regarded
If you be too hard, you will be broken
If you be too feeble, you will be crushed.

This is as complete a copy as I can find at this time; if I find a better one, I will post that also.

BTW: Notice when Cormac says "I have been..." Compare that with the "Song of Amergin" and the songs of Taliesin, particularly "Cad Goddeu." While the listing poem is certainly a feature of Celtic poetry (just look at St. Patrick's Faith Fiada), this is also in line with the Baghadvad Gita and such works.

Also, some of it is just funny. And reminds me of Polonius.

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