AN GAOḊAL.
95
A SIMILITUDE,
FROM THE IRISH OF
AN "GAḂAR DONN'S" Sosaṁlaċt,
BY
ANTHONY J. DOHERTY.
There's a beam upon the stream as it winds along its way,
It is bright in the light of the smiling sun to-day;
No clouds obscure the heavens, — there's no mist upon the hills,
Small birds 'mong blooming branches sweetly sing with tuneful bills.
How lovely looks the landscape round, how beautiful each field,
With verdure green and bright-hued flowers that fragrant odors yield;
The distant bleating of the sheep sounds softly sweet and low,
And cows and calves are lowing too, in vales where bright streams flow.
And a certain lovely, winning lass her voice also doth raise,
And in unison with each sweet sound doth sing her artless lays;
Her gentle voice, than aught on earth, seems sweeter far to me,
For she's the darling of my heart — mo vourneen geal mo chree.
But though all things around me look so beautiful and gay,
And Nature all so pleasant glows beneath Sol's genial ray,
There's a heavy sorrow or my heart, for Erin is not free,
But trampled 'neath the Saxon’s feet in doleful slavery.
On Erin's Wrongs while musing sad, a cloud rose dark and dun,
And filled the sky with sickly gloom that had the warm sun;
The lovely scene ere long was changed, — the day grew dark as night,
And every living thing crouched low with fearful awe and fright;
A cloud o'erspread the purling stream, thick vapour hid each hill,
Each little bird, in bush concealed, its music soon did still ;
The flowers folded up their leaves, their heads dropped to the earth,
In sorrow's bonds all Nature lay, — hushed were all sounds of mirth,
My heart was full of pain and grief, my joyful thoughts all flown,
And I fancied every creature did cry plaintively — ochone!
Another change ! the the storm-fraught clouds did quickly disappear,
Again upon the grass-green fields the sun shone strong and clear,
The little birds melodiously sang out among the trees,
And the gladsome murmurs of the brooks was borne upon the breeze.
I heard the cattle rough-toned low, and all was glad and gay,
My heart was filled with comfort great and sad thoughts fled away,
The warmth of the genial sun was shed on mount and plain
The skies above, without a speck, did brighten up again.
"This day resembles thee, dear land," said I, "by force oppressed,
'Neath gathering clouds and thickening mists lying sore distressed,
No strength is in the arms now, no music in the tongue,
Thou know'st no more those glorious times of which the bards oft sung;
In the galling chains of slavery held firmly and fast,
Thou bitterly dost think upon the days that now are past,
When thy sons, free as the wind, without one sorrow or regret,
Daily listened to the music of thy bards together met,
In "Navan of the Bards" or in "Tara of the Kings,"
Or in Kincora's palace where they tuned their sweet harp-strings,
And sang the songs of freedom, ere the Gall o'erthrew the Gael,
And took from thee thy liberty and glory, Innisfail."
"Ochone! thou liest conquered, to the earth thou now art crushed,
Heart-sorrow keen thou feelest, — thy music all is hushed;
But yet like that dark gloomy cloud thy sorrows shall depart,
And the glorious light of Liberty its bright beams on thee dart.
No land on all this earth shall be so prosperous and free,
So happy, dear old Ireland, or so esteemed as thee,
Thy skies without a single speck in splendor e'er shall shine
And the full bright rays of Freedom's sun shall evermore be thine."
This is our prayer for the each morning and each night,
May that clear sun soon shed over thee its pure effulgent light,
May it scatter from thy lovely brow the clouds of grief and care,
And give to thee once more the right a Nation's crown to wear,
May it make thee soon again, as thou wert wont to be,
'The foremost flower of all the Earth, and first gem of the sea,'
Thy sons all brave and valiant as in ages long ago,
Maintaining all their God sent rights, triumphant o'er each foe;
May God's blessing e'er be on thee while countless ages run,
And may He illumine thy fair face with Freedom's shining sun."
