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AN GAOḊAL.
Is cuiṁin liom in uaigneas mé ḃeiṫ báiḋ¬
te;
Is cuiṁin liom mo ċroiḋe le pian ḃeiṫ
sáiḋte;
Le d' ṫaoḃ tá seun.
A! feudann Dán gaċ dúil aċ tú ċur uaim,
Oir le do ṫaoḃ ní'l binn agam air ġruaim,
Air son do ġráḋ beiḋ gráḋ gaċ eile uaim
Nessa.
Ċo díl duit féin?
Bania.
Ċo díl dam féin!
Nessa — Bania.
An cuiṁin leat air maidin moċ ár saoġ¬
ail,
Nuair ḃí sinn fágṫa, tú 'gus mé linn
féin,
In d'óige roinn mé leat gaċ baoġal,
'Gus ḃí mo leun duit mar do leun?
Mar sin, a n-diu, mar sin go mairfiḋ,
Tú liom go buan, 'gus mise leat go deo
No Am no Cráḋ ní sgarfuiḋ
Ḋá ċroiḋe rinn' Am 'gus Cráḋ níos
teo.
Eoċaiḋ — Beoṫaċ
Na geallta gníḋeann mná,
Ní ḃrisfiḋ Fear, no Am, no Cráḋ.
Nessa — Bania.
Cia h-iad tá teaċt ċo réiḋ le'r dtaoḃ?
Óir ní'l againn fios air ḋuine ḋíoḃ.
Eoċaiḋ — Beoṫaċ.
Éist linn trál Éist linn trá!
Ní fada béiḋ ár sgeul d'a ráḋ.
Cóiṁṡeinm.
'Nois do ṡuaiṁniġ na seaċránuiḋe saor
ó gaċ brón ;—
O Ḟir na h-Éireann!
A's ḃí geallta na maidne faoi ḋear¬
mad roiṁ nóin ;—
O Ṁná na h-Éireann!
Oir do ṁúsgail an Bárd, le n-a ċeol
binn, árd,
Mac-alla ċóṁ-ḟulaing na mná ;
Aċ an Saiġdiúr fíor, le aḃrán saor
Do las sé a súil le gráḋ.
NESSA — BEOṪAĊ.
I too have known to solitude to wake-
I too have known life's dawn by joy
(forsaken
Till thou wert near.
But, save of thee, of all my Fate ber¬
eave me,
For by thy side no grief of life can
grieve me,
And for thy love all other love may
(leave me.
Nessa.
To thee so dear?
Bania.
To me so dear!
Nessa — Bania.
Dost thou remember in life's early
morning,
When thou and I on earth were left
alone,
I shared thy childhood's sorrow,
And mine to thee was as thine own?
Ah thus, to-day, and thus for ever
Be thou to me, and I to thee anear!
Nor Time nor Grief can sever
The hearts that Grief and Time
make dear.
EOCAIDH — BEOTHACH.
The vows that vestals make,
Nor Time, nor Grief nor Man may
(break.
Nessa — Bania.
Who are ye thus so free with your
greeting?
But of strangers we think is this mee¬
[ting.
Eocaidh — Beothach.
Who are we ! who are we!
we shall rest us a space to tell.
Chorus:
So the wanderers they rested in leaf-
laden grot :—
O Men of Erin !
And the vows of the morn ere the
noon were forgot:
O Maids of Erin !
For the youthful Bard, with his min¬
strelsy,
Woke the echo of sympathy's sigh:
But the soldier, he with his song so free,
Lit love in a laughing eye.
Nessa — Beothach.
