948
AN GAOḊAL
ḃ-fuil an ċnáb dúinn dá casaḋ,
A's má ċuirfiḋ siad ċum báis mé na
grásta go ḃ-fuig m'anam
The above lay giving expression to the lonely
musings of a poor deserter in Clonmel jail is a
good example of the old Irish street ballad that
the spread of English forced to cede alto¬
gether to the modern “come all ye.” It is still ex¬
tant in the neighborhood of Clonmel. The appen¬
ded translation furnished by the Irish poet, J. J.
Callinan, is a beautiful rendering indeed but so
loose in its adherence to the text that it should be
regarded rather as a metrical paraphrase. It is
only necessary to add that the Bagwell mentioned
was a Crowellian burgess in Clonmel eminently
qualified to give the current quotations in hemp
by his share in the "fudicial” murder of Father
Sheehy and the other atrocities prompted by the
ruthless devilry of those concerned in the Munster
No Popery panic of 1766.
THE CONNOT OF CLONMEL.
How hard is my fortune and vain my repining.
The strong rope of fate for this young neck is twi¬
ning,
My strength is departed my cheek sunk and sal¬
[low,
While I linger in chains in the gaol of Cluanmeala
No boy in the village was ever yet milder,
I'd play with a child and my sport would be wilder
I'd dance without tiring from morning till even,
And the goal-ball I'd strike to the lightning of
Heaven.
At my bed-foot decaying my hurlbat is lying,
Through the boys of the village my goal ball is
flying ;
My horse 'mong the neighbors neglected may
fallow.
While I pine in my chains in the gaol of Cluan-
meala. *
Next sunday the patron at home will be keeping
And the young active hurlers the field will be
sweeping.
With the dance of fair maidens the evening they
'll hallow,
While this heart once so gay shall be cold in
Cluanmeala.
* Field of honey ; now Clonmel.
Cluanmeala.
Here is a modern Munster poem but retaining
the characteristics of the old poetic effusions, —
Do'n rábaire rábaċ rinn-ġeuraċ raṫ¬
ṁar agus don ridire ro-eaċdaċ reiḋ .i.
Seáġan soillseaċ, solusṁar O'Maol¬
ḋia, ó n-a ċara neiṁfiúntaċ, duairc,
doḃeusaċ,
An Buinneán Aoraċ.
A Ṡeáġain ġle ġil, aoiḃinn, is lonnraċ
do ċroiḋe 'stiġ,
Tá d'aigne a's d'intleaċt air foġ¬
naṁ;
Mar ní ḟaca mé duine led' ḋaonnaċt
a's fuineaṁ
Ċoṁ fialṁar grinn-ṁilis dod' ċoṁ¬
arsain.
Dá ḟeaḃas iad a's eile ar m-buaċaill¬
iḋe ġeala,
Cia socair a g-cuideaċta ṡéiṁ iad;
Go mór do b'ḟeárr linne ḃeiṫ suiḋe
cois na teine,
le Seáġan agus tuille ag plé seal.
Is buaċaill tú gasda ó oileán na mara,
A ṫáiniċ ó'n ḃ-fine-ċeart Ṁilioḋ,
Do rugaḋ a ḃ-farraḋ na trom-tuile
gairḃ.
A g-ceanntar na Gailliṁ' leaṫ-as-t-
siar uainn.
Is truaiġ gan ár d-talaṁ le h-aice
Ċluain-meala,
No b-Paoraiġ na maċaire mín-ḃog ;
Gaċ sásaċt do ġeoḃmais 'dir greann
agus ól ann,
A's caol-ċuin ċum spóirt & fiaḋaċta.
Go mairiḋ tú béimneaċ go síor-ċaiṫ¬
réimeaċ,
A ḟarraire ṫreun, láidir, ḃríoġṁar,
Dar a raiḃ ag na Caesars de hats agus
beavers
Do ṗáirt si ní reicfinn air ríoġaċt.
An Buinneán Aoraċ.
Vocabulary.
Rabaire, a dashing young fellow.
Rinn-ġeuraċ, sharp-pointed, of weapons
Raṫṁar, fortunate
Ridire, knight.
Ro eaċdaċ, very doughty, deed-doing.
Neiṁ-ḟiúntaċ, worthless
Duairc, of a dull, stubborn nature,
Do-ḃeusaċ, ill mannered.
Lonnraċ, gleaming.
Intleaċt, intellect.
Daonnaċt, humanity, civility.
Fuinneaṁ, fierce, quick energy.
Feaḃas, goodness; dá ḟeaḃas, how
good soever.
