260
AN GAOḊAL.
To the Editor of THE GAEL :
Dear Sir; — A very few years ago I took into my
head a notion of playing upon a harp many of the
national airs of Ireland and also of composing lyri¬
cal songs to them in order that they may be preser¬
ved in memory and so prevented from passing into
oblivion : And to-day I send you two of those
compositions as suitable for publication at the pres¬
ent time according as you may decide. One of them
is a hymn in praise of the B. V. Mary written to
the old national air
Fuaim agus Fothrom na Ceardchan,
a very suitable air for the church organ: And the
other God Save the Pope which is not inappropriate
at this particular time of the Papal Jubilee — when
the most elite and blessed of our Irish countrymen
are engaged in the commendable movement of per¬
sonally honoring His Holiness. This last lyric has
been written to the old national air
Eist a Bhrighid og, Eist.
And is also suitable for the church organ and solemn
music. I am not also to forget that I recently pro¬
mised you three translations into Irish for your next
three Gaels, namely, — God Save Ireland, The Star
Spangled Banner, and Marsailaise hymn of liberty
from the French. I make this announcement in or¬
der to show your readers that I still stand by the
Gael, and for the old Gaelic of my sires
GAODHAL.
HYMN to THE B. V. MARY.
(From Gael's Melodies)
Air, — Fuaim agus Fothrom na Ceardchan.
Of Mary, mother most pure, let's utter
Due praise — whene’er to pray we meet:
For she is star-crowned, and sun-robed around,
With the moon-orb under her feet :
She’s the ward of Heaven, to whom are given
The keys of faith its gates to ope —
She’s the star and pole of each sainted soul —
The mild, merciful Queen of Hope.
From date eternal, by fate supernal,
Her role of love hath been designed —
And what need we more to exalt her o'er
All of angels and human kind.
All ye Seraphim faithful Cherubim,
And all ye Choirs Divine unite ;
Till loud anthems soar, from each joyous core,
To now laud the sweet maid of light.
Thou grace indulgent! thou beam effulgent !
And golden way that leadst to life
Conduct all thine own, to thy Son's high throne
Where true solace untold is rife !
In thy conception, divine perfection
Of purity, hath not been chary,
Which should shine sublime, as the theme of
[time
Immaculate Virgin Mary!
GOD SAVE THE POPE.
(From Gael's Melodies).
Air, — Eist a Bridhid og, Eist.
The Vicar of Our Lord is the theme of my muse,
For his welfare my yearnings abound —
The nations that oppose him — the foes who abuse —
Stern destiny, in fine, will confound :
When gravest his troubles, he confident remains,
For firm in Christ's promise is his hope ;
And his true Irish children whose love never wanes,
Will pray — God save our Father the Pope.
Jerusalum, a prey to the Turks has become,
Though the scene of our faith's early birth;
For the Stone that she refused was accepted by Rome
Whence 'tis destined to fill the whole earth :
And the Bark of St Peter — without reefing a sail —
With each storm of adversity will cope ;
Until mankind — all converted — the future shall hail
With — may God save our Father the Pope !
St. Paul hath clearly shown, the olive wild as grown,
On the root of the true olive tree ;
And how the lopped limb, on the stem once its own,
In time, again grafted may be :
Hence let us Christians too — with no narrow-mind-
[ed view
But with universal sympathetic scope —
Our charity extend to non-Catholics all through
And shout — God bless our Father the Pope !
We think the following, by Mr. McCormick, one
of the best plain pieces of Gaelic which has as yet
appeared in the Gael.
Wheeling W. Va., Feb. 5. '93.
A Ċara Ḋílis: Ṫainic do leitir ḟáil¬
teaṁuil ar láiṁ & do ċuir sólás mór
orm fa leitir ḟáġail ins a teanga Ġae¬
ḋilge. A ċaraid, ní raḃ agam aċ na
ceiṫre ceaṫraṁna do Ċúl na Binne, &
ḃí dúil agam go ḃ-fuiġeaḋ cuid de léiġ¬
ṫeoiriġiḃ an Ġaoḋail an t-aḃrán & go g¬
cuirfeaḋ ċugad an ċuid de 'n dán naċ
ḃ-fuil agam-sa. Tá sé ḋá ḟiċead bliaḋ¬
ain ó ċualaiḋ mé bean i m-Baoil-Ḃulláin
d'a ṡeinim. Connairc mé aḃrán, an
t-Oileán-Bán san nGaoḋal; ṫug Antoi¬
ne O'Mulala ḋam é. Ní'l aċt ḋá ḃéirse
ḋe ceart; nuair ṫigeas faill raċfad
go Bellaire le súil go ḃ-fuiġinn an t-
iomlán de. Agus Carraigín an Fás¬
aiġ: Níor ċualas ariaṁ an t-ainm sin.
Má tá aḃrán, Oileán Eudaiġ, agad
cuir ċugam é a's beiḋ mé buiḋeaċ,
A ċara, tá go leor Éireannaċ ins an
m-baile seo aċ tá siad ró ṡotalaċ le
adṁáil go ḃ-fuil Gaeḋilge acu Ḃí sag¬
art breáġ Éireannaċ air an m-baile so
fiṫe bliaḋain ó ṡoin. B'é mar ainm dó
Rúbért Ġellehir; toġaḋ scoláire Gae¬
ḋilge ḃí ann-san; ḃeannuiġ sé an t-am
de 'n lá do ḃean as Condae na Gaill¬
iṁe a nGaeḋile & d' ḟreagair sise i m¬
Béarla-briste é. 'Sé mo ḋóiġ, a deir
sé léiṫe, naċ ḃ-fuil Gaeḋilge nó Béar¬
