60
AN GAOḊAL.
See Vol.
IV. p. 477.
From
U. Bourke's
Grammar.
UI DOṀNAILL ABÚ.
Tá binn ġuṫ an aḋairc go glóraċ a
géimniuġaḋ,
'Gus gáir ċaṫ a síneaḋ go h-árd air
an gaoṫ,
Ṫar Loch Suiliġ tá 'n treun laoċ go
luaṫṁar a léimniuġaḋ,
Aig na sluaiġte 'nn glean Ṫaṁair a
deifriuġaḋ gan sgiṫ
Síos ó gach sliaḃ go beo,
Treun ḟir naċ d-teiṫfeaḋ gleo,
Brosdaiġiḋ faoi ġlas-ḃrat ḃar ngaisg-
iḋ, Aoiḋ Ruaḋ!
Bannaċ 'gus Galóglaċ,
Deifriġiḋ go ċlaon aig ċaṫ!
Suas fá ḃur n-díl ṫír, Ui Ḋoṁnaill Abú!
Feuċ Ó'Néill, sgoiṫ na ḃ-flaṫ, ċum caḃ-
air a ċlaonaḋ,
Le mór-ṡluaġ gaisgiġṫe 'gus toġaḋ
na ḃ-feaḋaim,
Tá míle eaċ borb ann a roiṁ-rann a
síneaḋ,
Faoi na marcaiġiḃ ó 'n g-cluan ḃ-fuil
sruṫ Banna ann.
'S iomḋa 'n croiḋe ḃeiḋeas fann,
Faoi sgaṫ a ċulaiḋ-lann,
Beiḋ geur-ḃrón air náṁaid, iad-ḟéin ḃí
gan truaġ,
'Nuair cluinfear ar ngáir-ġleo,
Sgriaċ air an t-sionnán teo,
Brosduġaḋ ċum díoġaltas, Ui Ḋoṁnaill
Abú!
Tá 'n faol-ċú ann Ḋeas-Ṁúṁain aig
ailleaḋ go fraoċraċ,
'S an t-iolraċ gan eagla a sgriaċ air
an maġ:
Tá 'n sionnaċ air ṡráidiḃ a faire go
caoċraċ,
Ní'l duine le bagairt air beo air an
ḃ-faiṫ;
Fáisg uile láiṁ go teann,
Tuaḋ-ċaṫ 'gus faoḃraċ' lann —
Tóig orṫa trom-ḋíoġaltas, ceart agus
luaṫ:
Beiḋ aca cráiḋteaċ sgeul,
Air ḋíl Clann na nGaoḋal —
'S air treun Ċlainn Ui Ċonaill, Ui
Ḋoṁnaill Abú.
Sé 'n fío-ċeart tá Clann Ċonaill cos¬
aint ċo toilteaċ,
Na teallaiġe ’s na h-altóir tá ansa
dá 'r g-croiḋe;
Tá lorg an náṁaid 'nn a m-bán ḟásaċ
fuilteaċ!
Le lasair a d-teinte tá soilseaċ
meaḋon oiḋċe;
Suas le gaċ laoċ mar sin
'N g-cian gleo ḃí agaiḃ roinn;
A Ċlainn Ċonaill ḋílis, all-nearṫṁar
faoi ḃruṫ!
Airiġéann an Sacsan feall
Trom-ḃuilliḋe Clann na nGaoḋal!
Buail fá ḃur nglas ṫír, Ui Ḋoṁnaill
Abú!
O DONNELL ABOO.
Proudly the note of the trumpet is sounding,
Loudly the war cries arise, on the gale,
Fleetly the steed by Lough Swilly is bounding
To join the thick squadrons in Saimear's green
vale.
On ev’ry mountaineer,
Strangers to flight and fear,
Rush to the standard of dauntless Red Hugh!
Bonnought and Gallowglass,
Throng from each mountain pass!
On for old Erin O'Donnell aboo!
Princely O’Neil to our aid is advancing
With many a chieftain and warrior clan ;
A thousand proud steeds in his vanguard are pran-
cing,
’Neath the borderers brave from the banks of the
Bann:
Many a heart shall quail
Under its coat of mail ;
Deeply the merciless foeman shall rue,
When on his ear shall ring,
Borne on the breeze's wing,
Tirconnell's dread war-cry, “O'Donnell aboo!'
Wildly o’er Desmond the war wolf is howling,
Fearless the eagle sweeps over the plain,
The fox in the streets of the city is prowling, —
All, all who would scare them are banished or slain!
Grasp, every stalwart hand,
Hackbut and battle-brand,
Pay them all back the deep debt so long due :
Norris and Clifford well
Clan of Tir-Connell tell, —
Onward to glory, “0'Donnell aboo!"
Sacred the cause that Clann-Conaills defending,
The altars we kneel at and home of our sires ;
Ruthless the ruin the foe is extending,
Midnight is red with the plunderer's fires !
On with O'Donnell then,
Fight the old fight again,
Sons of Tir-Conaill, all valiant and true!
Make the false Saxon feel,
Erin's avenging steel!
Strike for your country “O'Donnell aboo!"
