832
AN GAOḊAL
became doubting Thomases. You, bro¬
ther Gaels, showed these Thomases the
evidence by thrusting your Language
and literature into their “hands” — They
see, and they believe. As Irishmen,
brother Gaels, and we fail to see any
other deserving the name, the burthen
of preserving our Nationality rests of
us. This we can do without any con¬
siderable pecuniary outlay. We have
the machinery in motion and by per¬
severance and energy, we can prevail
on our likewarm countrymen to help
to keep it oiled so that in spite of fate
we shall carry our flag to ultimate vic¬
tory.
Let, then, each Gael try and get a
squad of recruits for the National army
the coming year. If this be done the
chicanery of all the enemies of Irish
Nationality will be frustrated.
Mrs McBride.
My thanks are due to Katie Molloy, of Bristol,
Pa. daughter of Edward Molloy, of Acres, co.
Donegal, for this song.
J. J. Lyons.
Fion — Bruaċ a tsleiḃe
STÓR an ḞOILT FIONN.
'S mo ċairde gaoil gur ṫréig mé
Mar ġráḋ air ṁnaoi naċ ḃ-fuair mé,
'S go n-imṫeoġainn mar eun beag
Fá ġeugaiḃ na g-crann;
Biḋ seaḃac na coile léiṫe,
'Gus sionnaċ ruaḋ Ḃinneadair,
Ḃiḋ an eilit fá na sléiḃte,
Teud 'gus an ċearc-ḟraoiġ.
Biḋ ċuaċa, biḋ troiġne ann,
Biḋ lonnduḃ' 's smólaiġ,
Crataiġ ṁara 's faoileáin
I tréigeail ann a ngaoiḋ ;
Biḋ an naosg ann a's an ċeursaċ
A's faoileáin na sléiḃe,
Deunaḋ fras 's a geurġul
Fá mé ḃeiṫ gan ṁnaoi.
Sliaḃ fionn 's Tuaḋ fionn
'S Connaċta gur ċuartuiġeas,
Is gaċ aon ḃaile cuain,
Síos go d-tiġ an g-Geall;
Fri na coilte go h-uaigneaċ
Tig eilitiḋ 'na n-gluaisaċt,
'S mé aig iarruiġ do ṫuairisge,
A stóir an ḟoilt ḟinn.
Ṫre Laiġinn a's Columra,
'S Sliaḃ Gaḃra gur ṡiuḃalas
'S d' annsaċt, a rúinsearc,
Mo ṡúile gur ḋall,
Gaċ is féidir damsa úluġaḋ
Den eug feasda a ċúil ḟionn,
'S a ṁaiġdean ḃaraṁail, ṁúinte,
Naċ tú rinne an ḟeall.
Ní'l ród, ní'l carn 'sní'l coirnéil,
'S ní'l casán cúṁang no cuimseaċ
Nár ṡiuḃail mé gan aṁras,
Ṫart ṫimċioll gaċ ród;
Ċuaiḋ mé frí na gleanntaiḃ
'Gus as sin siar go Luimneaċ,
Doṁnaċ mór 's an Teampul,
'S ní ann a ḃí mo stór.
'Sé duḃairt bean an airiġ liom
Gur ċóra dam ḃeiṫ i n-Árdamaċ
Aig imirt cluiṫe taiplis,
Aig an t-sáile i n-deas an ṁoin;
Ġluais mise 'nuair sin
Fri ċoilte do mo ruagaḋ,
'S go dearḃṫa ní ḃ-fuaireas í,
'S nár ṫruaġ, boċt mo sceul.
Is créatúr lag, faon mé
Gan treoir aċt mo ṡean-luṫ,
'S ní beo mé gan aṁras
'S gan d' annsaċt, a reult;
'S 'nuair a ċuaiḋ mé ann cainte
Le stuam-ġráḋ na sliom-ġlas,
'S gur b'é mo nuar ġeur!
Naċ raḃmuid a n-gleanntaiḃ síġe.
Laḃair sí go ciuin liom,
A's ṫre coṁráḋ gur ḋuḃairt sí:
"Cáin as ní ṫiurfad,
'S diúltuiġim do ḋáil;
Seunaim-se ḃeiṫ cluiḋte,
'S ní eugfaiġ mé do ḋiaġ-sa,
’Ná tá ór aig na riġṫe,
'Gus fíon anns an Spáinn."
Sé Colum Cille na féile,
A ḋuisg as mo neul mé,
'S d' innis dam ca'n taoḃ
A raḃ an spéir-ḃean 'na suiḋe;
Go raḃ sí a ngleanntán sléiḃe,
A d-tig diuillḃear agus aḋainn air,
'S biḋ turas aige féin ann
A ḟoileas de gaċ aon.
