AN GAOḊAL.
11
ÓG-LAOĊ NA RANN.
Fonn — Móirín.
Do ṫriall ċum caṫa óg-laoċ na rann,
Lár náṁad Éireann ársaiġe,
Lann aṫar fáisgṫe air go teann,
Ann aoinḟeaċt le n-a ċláirsiġ.
"A ṫír na n-dán!" ar an laoċ-ċeoil grinn,
"Dá mbeiḋeaḋ an saoġal do d' ḋaoraḋ.
Tá aon ċruit aṁáin le do ṁolaḋ go binn,
'S aon lann aṁáin le do ṡaoraḋ"
Do ṫuit an bárd! aċ má ṫuit, go fóill
Ḃí a ċroiḋe neaṁ-eaglaċ, treunṁar;
A's raob sé teuda cláirsiġe an ċeoil,
Do scuab sé, an tráṫ ḃí seunṁar;
A's duḃairt, "Ní ṁillfiḋ cuing do ġuṫ,
A ċruit ċaoin na ḃ-feaṫ saora;
Is ní cluinféar go h-eug do lán ḃinn-sruṫ,
Lár brúide a's bróin na tíre."
THE MINSTREL BOY.
AIR — "Moreen."
The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone;
In the ranks of death you'll find him ;
His father's sword he has girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him :
"Land of Song!" said the warrior bard,
“Though all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"
The Minstrel fell! — but the foeman's chain
Could not bring his proud soul under;
The harp he lov'd never spoke again.
For he tore its chords asunder ;
And said, "No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and bravery!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free,
They shall never sound in slavery!"
AN ĊRUIT DO SCAP TRÍ ṪALLAIĠ 'N RIĠ.
Fonn — Máire a Stóir.
An ċruit do scap trí ṫallaiġ 'n riġ
Na gaeṫe ceola binn',
Tá 'r ḃallaiḋ Ṫeaṁra 'nois 'n a luiḋe
Gan fearsad ceoil, no rinn;
