278
AN GAOḊAL.
I love your gold tresses,
That gracefully twine,
In soft silken ringlets,
So glossy and fine.
I love your small footprints,
So light on the lee
But dearer I'll love you
When mine you will be.
"TO THE MEMORY OF
JOHN McAHALE.
ARCHBISHOP OF TUAM,
PRIEST, PATRIOT, AND POET.
FOREMOST LOWER OF HIS COUNTRY AND
HER LANGUAGE,
THIS MEMORIAL TO THE NAME OF
ST. PATRICK
IS RELIGIOUSLY DEDICATED."
Such are the terms in which the Rev. John No¬
lan O.D.C. Hon. Sec. Gaelic Union of Dublin, an¬
nounces his St. Patrick's Prayer Book a copy of
which now lies before us. This prayer-book is
Irish-English — Irish on one side and the transla¬
tion in English on the other; it is bound in green
and gold. The type is clear and bold, and, taking
it all together, is a very neat little volume. No
Irishman or woman should be without a copy of it.
We prophesy far it a large circulation. The price
of it is one shilling and six pence Sterling, and
may be sold in this country for about sixty cents.
We are making arrangements by which every Dol¬
lar subscriber to the Gael, will be presented with
a complimentary copy of this prayer book.
AONDAĊT NA GAEḊILGE,
Leis an g-Craoiḃín Aoiḃinn.
'Sí Aondaċt na Gaeḋilġe a tuilleas an
ġlóir,
D'Aondaċt na Gaeḋilge go raḃ onóir,
Do ṡaorṫuiġ go láidir, a's d' oibriġ go
mór
Ċum an leaḃairín ḃeag seo do ċuir ós
ar g-cóṁair.
Le congḃáil beo
Na teangan is sine,
Tá an leaḃairín so
Anois air ḃun:
Tá gráḋ, tá dúil,
Tá dóċus linn-ne,
Ná leig air g-cúl
An gráḋ 's an fonn.
Ḃí an Ġaeḋilig leaṫ-ċráiḋte 'gus múċ¬
ta faoi ċeo,
Dob' ionan a's marḃ í, caillte, leaṫ-ḃeo
Aċ fáilte, 's fáiltċ, 'gus fáilte go deo
Roiṁ na daoiniḃ a ṡeas ins an m-beár¬
na mar seo.
Le coimeud beo
An ġlóir is ḃinne,
Cuireaḋ i g-cló,
Ár leaḃairín:
A's mar is cóir,
Cuiṁneoċaiḋ sinn-ne
Go bráṫ an glór
Mór, milis, mín.
Ná ḃiḋeaḋ aon sgoilt, no aon imreas
le faġail,
A ġortóċaḋ ar g-cúis no a ṁillfeaḋ ar
g-cáil
Aċ Foiġid 'gus Carṫanaċt ċroiḋe mar
ḟál;
Is féidir leo duinne no cúideaċt ṡáḃáil.
A's coinniġ fós
Ó ġearmad grána,
Plúirín a's rós
Na d-teangan breáġ:
Ṁá támuid féin
Go díleas, dána,
Ní ṫiocfaiḋ leun
Uirri no cráḋ
THE GAELIC UNION.
By “Craoibhin Aoibhin."
Translation by Michael Cavanagh.
Air — “Garryowen."
'Tis the Gaelic Union that merits our praise,
To the Gaelic Union be Honor's bright lays ;—
By Wisdom's and Labor's united essays,
This bright little Journal before us it lays —
To keep alive
Earth's oldest tongue,
This book will strive,
With purpose true;
For our delight
To life it sprung,
Long may its sight,
Our joy renew.
The Gaelic language half crushed seemed dying,
Through gloomy mists fast to oblivion 'twas hissing
But welcome, trice over, to those, who defying,
Grim fate "man the gap and the "old flag" keep flying
To keep alive
Our language bland,
And make it thrive,
This book appears,
And if we aid,
With heart and hand,
'Twill never fade
Through future years.
