AN GAOḊAL.
323
ERRATA.
Verse. Line. Word. For. Read,
1st. 8th. 4th. ṡeir, ṡaoir.
3rd. 5th. 3rd. ḋó uaiḋ.
4th. 4th. 2nd. niḋ, 'n-aġaiḋ,
6th. 3rd. 2nd dairin, d'ḟearṫain.
7th. 7th. 1st criċ a leig, criċ-eagla
8th, 5th. rd. Crainne sléiḃe reuba,
9th. 1st. " Uaṁa tlig' a cnáṁa.
In the foregoing poem, by our late la¬
mented friend, Mr. Michael Burke, the
readers of the GAEL have got a treat
which they cannot often enjoy. Some
of our friends complain of the small¬
ness of the GAEL. We admit that it is
small, but the matter — the GAELIC
matter — (which is the only thing we
care for) — is valuable. The foregoing
poem by itself is worth five years' sub¬
scription of the paper to any one who
can perceive its merits as a composi¬
tion, apart from the sentiment which
its perusal cannot fail to excite.
We understand that a few of our
"friends" were fault-finding on account
of the few typographical errors which
appeared in the last issue, but which
are corrected in this. Our "friends"
are well aware that the Gael is turn¬
ed out hurriedly, and that even in the
best couducted concerns such errors
frequently occur. But, apart from this
these men have no right to either dis¬
praise or praise the Gael, for they have
never paid a penny, a red penny, for
its support! It is these do-nothing bu¬
sy-bodies who are always growling at
any movement tending to elevate
the social and material condition of
the race. They never pay a penny to-
wards its support and, like “the dog
in the manger," they will not do the
thing themselves nor, if they could, al¬
low others to do it. These false friends
are the bane of Irish nationality, and
whenever they open their mouths to
interfere in affairs which do not con¬
cern them, a wad of hay should be
thrust down their throats.
Send the GAEL to your friends in the
Old Country for 50 cents year.
(Complimentary to Mr. O'Callaghan.)
FEB. 25 1884.
Mo ġráḋ deóil tú, a Ċeallaċáin,
Go mairiġ tú go deó 'guinn slán,
Ċun coṁairle ag ṫaḃairt le línn gáḋ,
'S ċun aḃrán breáġa bínn ag ráḋ.
Mo ġráḋ do ċroíḋe, is maiṫ an sois¬
sguel ag ṫugais dúinn an lá fé ḋeire.
Mo ċreaċ, is mó duine aguinn 'sa tír-
seo a ngáḋ soisgeul agus coṁairle ár
leasa. Mar 'tá an dá leór dínn ag im¬
eaċt gan smaċt 's gan eagla Dé ann ár
g-croíḋe.
Sláinte ċúgat, agus saoġal
'Scuir soisgeul eile ċúgainn 'sa "nGaoġ¬
al."
DÉISEAĊ.
AMRÁN.
Port — "Máire an ċúil Ḃáin."
Is truaġ gan mise a Sacsana a ḃ-
Frainc na a Spáin,
No ṫall sna siar-Indeaċaiḃ mar a g-
cóṁnuiġeann mo ġráḋ,
Agus Máire an ċúil dualaiġ 'na
suiḋe eadar mo ḋá laiṁ,
'S go m-beiṫinn-se 'ga breugaḋ go h-
éiriġe an lá ḃáin.
Nuair a luiḋim air mo leabuiḋ ní'l
soċaṁail le fáġail,
'S go ḃ-fuil áraing in mo ṫaoḃ deas,
agus loit si me am' lár,
Doċtuiriḋe na cruinne 's iad uile
air fáġail
Ní'l mo léiġeas ag an meud sin aċt
ag Máire an ċúil ḃáin.
Is fada me ag imċeaċt air ṫúairise
mná-tíġ,
A mac-saṁail ní ḟaca mise a mḃai¬
le no a d-tír,
Dá ḃ-feicfeá an stuaid-ḃean air
ṫaoiḃ Cnoc na síḋe
Dual d'a gruaig ḃáin 'se dá fuadaċ
leiṡ an ngaoiṫ.
air — Petrie's
A.I.M.
No. 1179.
“The Pen Is Mightier than the Sword."
Mr. Patrick Ford of the Irish World is by no
means, physically, a very large man, weighing
probably not more than 140 pounds, if so much ;
yet, the English ministry are more in dread of him
today than they were of Napoleon I, in his palmi¬
est days! And all on account of a dash of his pen !
