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AN GAOḊAL.
Congḃuiġ iad gan sgarṫa
Air Ṗáirc an áir!
A Ṫíġearna!
Aċt ma ṫagann eagla orṫa
'San uair is troime gleo;
Na cúṁdaiḋ! leig do'n ḃás ṫeaċt orṫa
B'ḟearr gan iad ḃeiṫ beo!
A Ṫiġearna!
Bania.
Ní 'l agam sóġ, ní 'l agam síoṫ,
O ṫánaic sésean in mo ċóṁair;
is cuma aṫas in mo ċroiḋe,
No fós é dall le tuilltiḃ deor.
Aċt liomsa fios go ḃ-fuil fíor-ġráḋ
Do neaċ ċo ḋíl le anál Dé;
'San gráḋ gan seun, tá fíor go ḃráṫ,
Ar saoġal, go lom, ní ḟágfaiḋ sé.
Is minic d' ḟeuċ mé soir 'san aer,
'Gus d' eagluiġ mé caoṁ-ḃán'aḋ lae;
Air maidin ḋearc mé ceo 'san spéir,
Aċt ṫáinic nóin a's d' imṫiġ sé.
Mar sin, is féidir ḃrón dul uaim,
Meaḋon-lae mo ṡaoiġil ḃeiṫ saor o
ċráḋ;
Giġ duḃ a neulta, trom a gruaim ----
Tá croiḋe gráḋṁar, áluin, breáġ.
That in might they prove them
On the battlefield,
Lord!
But should fear appall them
In the hour of strife!
Guard not! let the death befall them!
Worthless they of life.
Oh Lord!
Bania.
i know not peace, l know not rest,
Since I have felt his presence near;
Or if that joy obscure my breast,
Or only sorrow's blinding tear.
But well I know the heart that loves,
To life more dear than breath is born,
And love unblest that faithful proves,
Will leave not all of life forlorn
How oft l’ve gazed upon the East,
And feared the dawniug dim and gray
How oft l’ve seen that morning mist
Before the noontide fade away.
Ah! thus perchance my fears may fade
My mid-day life be void of care:
For howso deep in clouds array'd,
The heart that loves is fresh and fair.
AḂRÁN ĊUM ÉIN.
Nessa.
Seinn! Seinn! a ḃinn-ġuṫ an ċroiḋe,
Ċum do ċéile cuir d' aḃráin is milse!
Seinn! Seinn! le glóire a ċoiḋ'e,
Béiḋ gaċ nóta dod' ḋeun'ḋ níos dílse!
Seinn! O! sé a beaṫa do ceol,
A beaṫa, 'sé solus do ċómnuiḋe.
Tá am síneaḋ;
Óige críonaḋ;
In a séasúr biḋeann Gráḋ líonaḋ g-cóṁ-
(nuiḋe.
Fós má tá 'g do ċéile míṡuim in do rann
Ná meas do ṡaoṫar ḃeiṫ fann,
Aċt seinn leat do ċeola go fíor
Ó'n talaṁ ḃ-fuil Miana 'g cóṁnuiḋe,
Biḋeann Gráḋ óg síneaḋ,
Biḋeann Croiḋe óg líonaḋ,
Mar rós, le sgeul dílseaċt' a gcóṁ-
(nuiḋe.
Tar ċugam! tar cuġam!
'Gus cóṁnuiḋe annso faoi sgáṫ!
Óir ċugad, O ċugad,
Song to a Bird.
Nessa.
Sing i Sing! sweet voice of the heart,
That thy mate in her bower may
hear thee!
Sing ! Sing! tho' dearest thou art,
Every note but will doubly endear
thee!
Sing! Oh! thy song is her life,
Those life is the light of thy dwelling
Time floweth,
Youth goeth,
In whose season Love glow'th at telling,
Yet if thy lady-love need not thy strain
Deem not thy quest is in vain.
But sing on with music's true art,
From the birthland of Passion upwel-
(Iing
Young Love floweth,
Young Heart groweth
Like the rose in the sun at love's tell-
(ing.
Come hither! Come hither!
Come rest in the greenwood tree,
For thither, O thither
