He could easily afford to get married, says the maiden. ("B'ḟuiris dom urraim-se géilleaḋ") and there must be some secret reason for his remaining single—
“Is faiṫiḃ foiliġṫeaċ uireasḃaċ éigin
D’ḟág an doirḃṫeaċ foirḃṫe in aonta.”
The passage is worthy of special attention, as it is a good illustration of Brian's artistic method, or to speak "like a man of the world," his non-committal attitude. He belongs to that class of poets (of whom Shakespeare and Goethe are mighty examples) who never quite give themselves away. He does not "unlock his heart" with the key of the "Cúirt." When we think we see him for a moment reveal himself, in hurling a shaft of fierce satire, we are baffled by a hearty laugh. He takes refuge in the pose of a "Merry-man."
“Is taiḋseaċ taitneaṁaċ tairḃeaċ tréiṫeaċ
Meiḋraċ meanmnaċ a ainm ’s is aeraċ.”
The passage I have quoted however is important also from the light it throws upon the circumstances of Brian's life. I am certain that this reference to his standing in local society was no idle boast. It is quite clear that the man who could write the "Cúirt" must have had far better opportunities in life than the average Gaelic poet. The strong self-controlled, yet joyous and mdependent temperament revealed in the "Cúirt" would have enabled him to hold his own in every class of society. He does not seem to have belonged to any literary set or clique like most of the other celebrated Gaelic poets—like, for instance, that hard-drinking school of melodious songsters who flourished on the banks of the Máig a generation before. The other men paid the penalty of belonging to literary coteries; Brian kept free from such influences and took a broader view of human life.
