46
AN GAOḊAL.
Nursing for another
Cubs she fain would smother
So I feel to-day.
Sadness breathes around me,
Sorrow's chains have bound me,
They who should have crowned
[me
Perish far away!"
Could I think you waver?
No ! those words I gave her —
“O, thou fair enslaver,
Thou hast won my heart.
Speak on, I entreat thee,
I may never meet thee,
Never more may greet thee,
Speak, before we part!"
So she then related,
How our land was hated,
Cashel devastated,
And its chieftains slain
“But," she said, “we are striving
Hosts are now arriving
Who will soon be driving
Tyrants o'er the main!
O! thou who inspirest
Eire’s bards, and firest
Heroes' breasts in direst
Woe through bitter years,
Unto thee each morning,
Who didst dree such scorning,
Scoffing, scourging, thorning,
I cry out with tears !
Send him back, and quickly
Who now, sad and sickly,
Roams where sorrows thickly
Press and crush him down!
And disperse and scatter
All who in these latter
Times have striven to shatter
Eire's rightful Crown!
O! the French and Spanish
Soon our foes will banish,
Then at once will vanish
All our grief and dread,
City, town, and village
Shall no more know pillage,
Music, feasting, tillage,
Shall abound instead;
Poetry, romances,
Races, and "long dances,”
Shouts, and songs, and glances
From eyes bright with smiles !
Our King's feasts shall Fame hymn
Though I may not name him,
Victory will proclaim him
Monarch of the Isles.
Many excellent friends of the Gaelic cause
have suggested that we ought to send bills to sub¬
scribers, the same as is done in other business,
when subscriptions become due. We shall do so
in future, though it costs time and money. How¬
ever, all subscriptions are due in advance.
The Democratic candidate for governor of Mass.
was eletected the other day by a large majority;
but the candidate for lieutenant governor, who is
an Irish-American, was defeated out of sight —
What a lot of white-livered bigots
Subscribers who think the Gael worth gett¬
ing should notify us of their change of residence.
AIR MAIDIN ĊEOḊAĊ.
"Air maidin ċeoḋaċ 'nuair a éiriġim
Agus ġaḃaim amaċ faoi 'n t-uaigneas
Is rúd a ḃuail an saiġead mé
Naċ leiġeasfaḋ an Róiṁ;
Is fada ḋam ḋá ṡeunaḋ
Agus caiṫfead feasda innsin,
Gur gráḋ mná óige ṁill mé
'S gan mo leiġeas le fáġail."
"A ógánaiġ óig, má 's féidir
Gur fíriniġe deir do ḃeul liom,
Ní leigfead-sa féin faoi 'n g-cré ṫú
Má 's féidir ṫú a leiġeas;
Aċt go ḃ-fuil mo ċáirde air gaċ taoḃ
[dam
Air láiṁ mo leas a ḋeanaḋ,
'S go m-bainfiḋdís cundas geur díom
Gad é 'n taoḃ air go raċfainn."
"Innis-se dóiḃ, a spéirḃean,
Go raċfaiḋ tú lá a spaisdeoireaċt,
Mar go ḃ-fuil tú curṫa, ceusta
Ó ḃeiṫ a' t' aonar do luiḋe;
Beiḋead-sa ann súd am' aonar
Aig lúb na coille geur-ġlais,
'S go deiḃin má n-gniḋeann tú breug
[liom
Is daor ort mo ċúis."
"Is iomḋa geallaṁain ḃreugaċ,
A ṫugais ariaḃ ó do ḃeul ḋam,
Fad a's ḃeiḋeaḋ grian air aer
No 'n feur glas aig fás;
'S go d-treaṁfaḋ caoiriġe maola
Na cnoic agus na sléiḃte
Mo ṁalruid de ċéile
Naċ b-pósfa mé go bráṫ."
"Innis-se dam, a ċailín,
Gad é 'n fáḋ naċ ngaḃfa liom-sa,
Buaċaill eudtrom, súgaċ,
Mear, luġṁar go leor;
Do ṫiurfaḋ puins 's lionn duit
Agus rionc air ṫallaiḃ cúirte,
Agus air n-dóiġ b' ḟeárr é na'n cnútaċ
Naċ m-beiḋeaḋ air an t-áḋ."
Tá teampuilín air ṫaoḃ cnoic
Agus tuaimín ro-ḋeas deunta ann,
Air leigeann mo ċeiṫre geugaiḃ
Ḃeiṫ sianta ann súd síos;
'S a ṁaiġirín ṁilis ṁaorga
Mar d-tigiḋ tú seal de m' ḟeuċaint,
— air. Petrie's A.I.M.
No. 1513
Joyce A.I.M. p 12.
craoḃaiġ
— féaċ Cláirseaċ na nGaeḋal.
an dara cuid.
