370
AN GAOḊAL.
Díbriġṫe ó n-a árus ársa,
Ó n-a ċeud-ġráḋ 's ó n-a ṡlioċd.
Tá na h-aiḃne lán de ḃriodáin,
Bric ġeala ins na sruṫáin,
Tá ga ḃh-uile cineál éisg ann
Ó ċeul na Muiġea go Cuan Moġ,
A's tá creideaṁ gcroiḋe na ndaoine,
Naċ maiṫeann 's naċ gcríonann,
Céaḋ míle slán leat a Ċondae Ṁaiġeo
Ó ṫús an earaiġ go deire fóġṁair
Biḋeann eunlaiġ aeir go ceolṁar,
San saṁraḋ tig an ċuaċ ann
D'a molaḋ féin go binn,
Tá cearca uisge ġoirm ċúṁra
A g-coṁnuiḋe riṫ a g-cúrs' ann,
A snáṁ anunn sa náll
Air gaċ loċán agus linn.
Ní'l gangaid anns an ngaoiṫ ann
Ní'l ain-teas feaṫ na h-oiḋċ' ann
'Stá aigne i g-croiḋe na ndaoin' ann
Ca ḟaid 's ḃiḋeann siad beo,
San t-am a ṫig an geṁreaḋ cruaiġ
Tig milliún coiḋean ó n-Iarṫuaiġ
A ḟáġann beaṫa ṁilis ann do ċuan,
A Ċondae deas Ṁaiġeo
Tá seaċt g-ceud míle acra talta bán'
Nár tóigeaḋ riaṁ go fóill ann,
Tá 'gus míle mílte air fad d' imil
Le h-ais cuḃain doṁain 's cuain;
'Nois tá m' inntinn buaiḋearṫa sárṫa
A's ní sgríoḃfaḋ mé níos mó,
Aċt Dia go dtárṫuiḋ Éire ġlas
Agus Condae Ṁaiġeo.
A young Irish=American (of good English educa¬
tion) out in Texas, wrote to us some twelve months
since for a sample copy of the Gael, intimating that
he would subscribe for it 'if he liked it.” It seems
he did not like it for we did not hear from him since.
Had the Geal contained a picture of a degraded,
sinister looking, ragged Irishman, with a battered
hat, long, clotted, dishevelled hair, whirling a black
thorn in his hand, and the neck of a half empty
whiskey-bottle jutting out of his coat-tail pocket,
there is no doubt that he would like it and become a
subscriber !
The Irishmen of New York and vicinity can ob¬
tain gratuitous instruction in the language of Ire¬
land by calling at the rooms of the P. C. Society,
263 Bowery, on Thursday evenings from 8 to 10,
and on Sunday afternoons from 3 to 6, o’clock.
The Philadelphia Philo-Celtic Society meets at
Philopatrian Hall, 211 S 12th St., every Sunday
evening, where it imparts free instruction to all
who desire to cultivate a knowledge of the Celtic
tongue.
Púdar Úr na Gréige
le P. A. Dougher,
A ġaisguiḋe treun na h-Éireann
Ta do lá teaċt go luaṫ,
Ná bí guiḋe ná 'g iarruiḋ déirce
Air na Sasanaiġiḃ gan truaġ,
Tá do ṡlaḃruiḋe rioċt a m-briste,
Taḃair congnaṁ maiṫ do'n tsliġe,
Le púdar úr na n-Gréige,
Naċ ḃ-fuil fealltaċ in a ḃríġ —
Caiṫ uait do ċlóiḋeaṁ 's bagnet
'S do ġunna mór gan ḟeiḋm,
Tá'n púdar úr níos feárr na 'n
tríur
Le deunaḋ bealaċ réiḋ
Tá criṫeaḋ air na tíoráin,
Tá faitċíos air an riġ,
Tá iongantas air a ṗrionnsa
'Gus na sáiġdiuraiḃ tá faoi;
Tá an saoġal a dul air aġaiḋ,
Béiḋ saoirse aig gaċ tír
Le congnaṁ púdar Greugaċ
Naċ ḃ-fuil fealltaċ in a ḃriġ.
Feicim-long air an t-sáile,
Go cumasaċ faoi ṡeol,
Feicim airm ċúṁaċta, láidir
Agus caisle ṁór' faoi ġárd',
Aċ taḃair ḋam bád beag cladaiġ,
Ag seolaḋ leis an ngaoiṫ,
Agus splanc de 'n ṗúdar Greugaċ,
Naċ m-béiḋ fealltaċ in a ḃriġ.
Ḃéarfainn fógraḋ do 'n ġadaiḋ,
Agus fógraḋ faisnéis', fíor,
Dream sgriosta tír na h-Éireann.
Le aosaiḃ ḃ-fad siar;
Beiḋid bogaḋ leo go tapaiḋ,
Caiṫfiḋ socrúġaḋ ḃeiṫ aici.
'Gus an ċuma is féarr é réiṫeaċ,
Is leis an b-púdar tá 'n ḃriġ.
Óra, a náṁaid, ná bí claṁsán 'nois
Má ḋóiṫeann tú do ṁeur,
Ní'l aon ḟáilte róṁat sa tír sin,
Nó ní ḃéiḋ arís go h-eug;
Tá tú ion do ḋroċ ċáirde
Ḃeiṫ géilleaḋ leat a ċoiḋċ',
'S an gleus is feár ṫú do ḋíbirt,
Is leis an b-púdar i tá 'n ḃriġ.
Fad saoġail is sláinte, a Rossa,
