28
AN GAOḊAL
SEANṀÓIR ĠAOḊALGE.
Leis an Aṫair Urramaċ P. I. Ua Cui¬
niḃ i d-Teampull Naoiṁ Alphonsuis,
Eoḃraċ Nuaḋ, Oiḋ'l Pádruic, 1895.
(Leanta.)
Ní 'l sé riaċtanaċ ḋam a ráḋ gur
ṡáisg gaċ Éireannaċ a ṫuaġ-ċaṫa & a
ċloiḋeaṁ, le rún daingean buaiḋ no
bás ḟáġail ar árd an ċaṫa; & fós, gur
ṁeas gaċ fear go raiḃ buaiḋ geallta,
air-sean aṁáin, & go raḃ an náṁaid
le claonaḋ faoi neart a ġualann & le
géireaċt a lainne
Go mór anaġaiḋ a ṫola féin, aċ fá
ċoṁairle a ṁic, Murċaḋ, níor ġlac
Brian aon ṗáirt 'san g-caṫ, óir ḃí sé
ro-ṡean. Go tapaiḋ ḃí an dá arm
fastuiġṫe in a ċéile i g-coṁraċ ṁarḃ¬
ṫaċ. Deir na stáiriḋe linn gurab' é
seo an caṫ buḋ truime & buḋ ṁilltiġe
a troideaḋ leis na cianta. Buḋ caṫ
laoċ & taoiseaċ é, & ṗioc siad a ċéile
amaċ ionnus go d-troidfidís láṁ lé
láiṁ Rinne Murċaḋ, mac Ḃriain, cas¬
gairt uaṫḃásaċ ameasg na námad le
neart a láiṁe ṫuit na Loċlannuiġe fa
n-a ċloiḋeaṁ mar ṫuiteas an t-arḃar
faoi ċurrán an ḟóġṁair. D' ionsuiġ
ḋá ṫaoiseaċ ar Ṁurċaḋ 'san am ceud¬
na, aċ ċuir sé iad le ċéile faoi gan
mórán moille. D'ionnsuiġ fear mór
d'ar b' ainm Anrud, prionna Fionn-
Loċlainn, ar Ṁurċaḋ annsin, aċ de
ḃriġ go raḃ a láiṁ ḋeis tuirseaċ rug
sé air leis an láiṁ ċlí, & ċuir sé an
prionnsa faoi, le n-a ċloiḋeaṁ ṫríd a
ċroiḋe. Le linn ċlaonuiġṫe do ṡolus
an lae, ḃí 'n caṫ neiṁ-cinnte Fá ḋeir¬
eaḋ, nuair a ḃí an ċuid buḋ ṁó de
ṫaoiseaċaiḃ na Lochlann marḃ, & míle
de na saiġdiúiriḋiḃ i lúireaċ claoiḋte,
ċaill an ċuid eile aca a meisneaċ, &
riṫeadar mar sgapṫar lóċán leis an
ngaoiṫ; riṫeadar isteaċ 'san ḃ-fairge
& ní ḟillfiḋ siad go bráċ le síoṫċán
na h-Éireann a ḃriseaḋ, nó le creid¬
eaṁ Naoiṁ Ṗáḋruic a ġéirleanaṁain
go deo.
Tar éis caṫa & buaiḋe ṁóire Ċluan,
TRANSLATION.
From the natural excellence of Rev
Fr. Cuniffe's Irish Lecture, apart from
the sentiments which pervade it. The
Gael recommend Gaelic students to
a close study of it.
It is not necessary for me to say
that every Irishman seized his battle-
axe and sword with the firm resolve
to find death or victory on the battle-
plain, and that each man felt as if vic¬
tory depended on himself alone, and
that the enemy was to be subdued by
the prowess of his arm and the sharp¬
ness of his blade.
Much against his own will, but by
the advice of his son, Muragh, Brian
took no part in the battle for he was
too old. Quickly the armies were fas¬
tened in each other in death's em¬
brace. Historians tell us that this was
the weightiest and most dreadful bat¬
tle fought in centuries. It was a bat¬
tle of heroes and chieftains, and they
picked each other out that they might
fight hand to hand Muragh Brian's
son, made dreadful havoc among the
enemy. By the strength of his arm,
the Danes fell under his sword as the
corn falls beneath the harvest sickle.
Two chieftains attacked Murach at the
one time, but he put both under him
without much delay A large man na¬
med Anrod, the Norwegian prince, at¬
tacked Murach then, and though his
right arm was tired, Murach seized
him with his left hand and he brought
the prince under him with his sword
through his heart. As the light of day
declined the battle was uncertain. At
last, as the larger portion of the Da¬
nish chieftains were dead, and a thou¬
sand of their mailclad warriors sub¬
dued the rest lost courage, and ran as
chaff scatters before the wind; they
ran into the sea, and they will never
return to disturb the peace of Ireland,
or to persecute the religion of Saint
Patrick for ever.
After the battle and great victory
