AN GAOḊAL.
161
diaḃail & deaṁain n-ar n-aġaiḋ go n-a
luċt caḃra na g-claoin-ḃeart, .i. caill¬
eaċa criona na bpiseóg.
"Do ḃí raṫ ṁór aguinn 'san m-baile
i bpáirc on leasa & do ḃioḋ sgeul ar
a luaḋ imeasg daoine an ċeantair gur
ḃ é buḋ cul báire ag sluaġ siġe ḋeas-
Ṁuṁan ó na ciantaiḃ ag iomáin gaċ
oiḋċe ġlan-ṡoillseaċ & ag breiṫ na liaṫ¬
róide leo ó ṡluaġ siġe ṫuaḋ-Ṁuṁan,
go d-teiḋidís go leir & Aoiḃeal ón leiṫ-
ċraig ar deireaḋ na sgríbe do ċaiṫeaṁ
fléiḋe & rince & seaḃraḋ acu 'san m-
bruġ áluinn do ḃí fa ḃun an leasa.
Maidir liom-sa níor ċuireas suim ná
mairg in a leiṫéid sin d'eaċtraiḋiḃ aċt
d'ḟógras ar mo ċuid fear an lios sin
do ṫoġail go beiṫ réiḋ coṁṫrom leis an
d-ṫalṁain do. Do ṫiomáineadar leo
ag roṁar go saoṫraċ & ag cartaḋ
cruaiḋ & mi-se 'n-a ḃ-farraḋ go n-dear¬
naḋ poll mór air ṫaoib an ċnoic. Leis
sin do ḃreaṫnuiġeas féin sean-ḃean
ċrion go ḃfallaing ḋearg uimpe ag
buain brosna no áḋḃar teine do ḋean¬
aṁ de ġeagaiḃ seargṫa do ṫuiteadar
fa lár de ḃárr ċrann an ċlaoiḋ. Ar
ḃfeicsin na ḃfear di do leig sí liuḋ &
míle glaoḋ uaiṫe go n-duḃairt do ġuṫ
árd;
"O faire go deo! a ṁioṫail na gcreaċ
Ní ḃeanfar an foġṁar le fuinneaṁ
ḃur speal."
Do sgiob sé lé' annsan ċum siuḃal & do
ling as raḋarc na foirne go tapaiḋ.
Níor ṫusga d'imṫiġ nár ġeit duine do
m' ḟearaiḃ dá raḋ, "munab é ar mear¬
ḃal atá m'intinn-se ṡin í ṫall Maim
Ṁantaċ na stara-ḟiacal & a dailtin
maille ria, & a ḋaoine na páirte is í
mo ċoṁairle daoiḃ-se an obair so do
ċaiṫeaṁ uainn & gan bac leis an t-sean
raṫ ṁioḋaḋṁaraċ, ṁíonádúrṫa so nios
mo, oir muna ndíngní aṁlaiḋ ní ḃia
duine ná deoruiḋe ḋínn beo i g-cionn
bliaḋna." "Éist do beul a amadáin
gan ċéill," ar na fir leis, & má ataoi
id' ḃogán ḃéaḋgaċ ná meas gurab mar
sin atá cáċ."
Do ḟan se n-a ṫost i n-diaiḋ sin &
ġaḃadar mo ḋaoine oibre ag roṁar go
whether I or any of my race were ev¬
er stingy of our food, because it was
customary that every poor person com¬
ing under the shelter of that house of
ours should get the fill of his bag be¬
fore he departed. But we are none the
better now of the possessions of long ago nor of
all we distributed among the poor, for devils and
demons and their evil doing servers, viz., the wi¬
thered pishoghue-practising hags have battled a¬
gainst us.
There was a large rath at home in the Liss field
and the story went among the people of that neigh¬
bourhood that for a long time it was the goal of
the fairy hosts of Desmond where they hurled ev¬
ery moonlight night and took the ball with them
from the fairy hosts of Ormond, and at the end of
the game accompanied by Aoibheal of Carrig-Leith
they went to feast with dance merry revel in a beau¬
tiful place beneath the Liss. As for myself I ne¬
ver had care or concern for that manner of story
and ordered my men to level that Liss until it was
even and flat with the ground. I accompanied
them and they commenced to dig laboriously and
shovel out clay until a great hole was made in the
side of the bank. About that time I saw a with¬
ered old woman with a red cloak about her gather
a bressney or bundle of fire-wood, that is, rotten
branches that had fallen to the ground from the
trees on the hedge-row. On seeing the men she
shouted and bawled and exclaimed in a loud voice
“Oh shame and sorrow! workers of your doom,
You'll never live to see the harvest bloom.”
She then betook herself away and quietly passed
out of sight of the company. She had no sooner
gone than one of my men startled said, “If my
mind be not deceived yonder goes Mam of the gap¬
ped mouth and fang-teeth with her urchin ; and
my friends I would advise you to give
up this work and have nothing farther
to do with this unnatural unlucky old
'Liss'; for if you do not do so not one
of us will be alive either man or wan¬
derer in a year's time.” “Cease thy
prate senseless fool,” said the men to
him "and if thou thyself art a neryous
'softy' do not think that everybody else
is in like manner."
He remained silent after that and
my workmen continued digging away
