AN GAOḊAL.
521
GUṪ na n-ÉIRIONNAĊ ĊUM NAOṀ.
AĊDA an TREAS LEÓ DEUG.
(Translated from the English of GAEL GLAS)
Ó! taḃair air ais ar n-dúṫċas sean,
A Ċoṁarba ionṁuin an Ṁic Dé;
Is leat air neaṁ do nasg' go teann —
Is leat an ḃriġ do sgaoil' air g-cre.
Casann an Niobe ġlas a b-pían,
Le slaḃraiḃ Ṗeadair nasgṫ' id-tráill',
Fliuċṫa le domblas geurleanṁain', —
Is leat a h-íc aṁáin le fáġail.
O Ioshua, faistineaċ Dé,
Do fuaraḋ ceangal tres an ċleas :
Aċt brisde so, cúig aoise re,
Feuċ mar ṫriall gort amuiġ go fras.
Is mar so ṁeall Hanraoi, an ríġ,
Pápa neaṁaṁrasaċ le cluain;
Ó rúd, ar d-tír aig fulaing diṫ,
'Nois in Léo ċuireas a muiníġin.
Socraiġeas Samuel in Sean Reaċd
Riaġaċd in Dáiḃiḋ agus Saul;
'Gus ċonnairc Iehú prions' an eaċd,
In ola naoṁ gur grás le fáġail.
A Aṫair Naoṁ éist le n-ar mian,
'S taḃair d' ar n-oileán cóir rioġḋa;
'S nuair ríṫfeas soiġnein ċogaid ḋian,
Naċ d-troidfiḋ 'n Tiġ'rna 'nar n-aġaiḋ
'Nuair ól fir Ġéḋeon as an sreiṁ,
Do'n slóġ níos lúġa do lean an ḃuaíḋ ;
'S ó Hóreb Cnoc rug Maoise séiṁ,
An t-slat do scuairs' an tíorán cruaiḋ.
Giḋ támuid lag, is maiṫ ar mian,
Ċum Róṁa ḋóirt'mar tias fola;
'Gus tre ċaṫuġaḋ, fada as dian,
Ċongḃuiġ'mar ar g-cinn os an tuile.
Ċóiṁéadaiġe na fíneaṁaine Dé
'N ár n-ioleán glas, ba ársa cliú,
Giḋ cúramaċ' ċum ċreidiṁ ġlé,
Do léig a ḟala do túisliuġaḋ —
Gur ḟada ḟál Gaeḋilge ar g-cre,
Ní'l aṁrus anois, no rún,
Gan do ċoḃair tá caillte sí,
,S béiḋ iomad damnuġaḋ aig leanaṁain
Sgaoil din ar g-ceiṫre aingil niaṁ',
In aṁain ṁór Longdúin, faoi ċuing;
Ċum coigeaḋaḋ ṡeasadar 'riaṁ —
Ṁúċ na bullaiḋ ar saoirse binn.
Is ḃéiḋid réiḋ 'nuair ṫig an iuḃal,
Do ḃual' Míċréidṁiġe agus Saoiḃ;
Coṁlíónfaid din, súil' fáiḋeaṁal',
'S líonfaid an doṁan le solus naoṁ.
An lá 24aḋ Deiċ-ṁí, 1885. Ṁ. Ua C.
TO CRAOIḂÍN AOIḂINN,
Whose patriotic labors for the cause
of Ireland and her language prove him to be as
true a hater of bigotry as he is a lover of his coun¬
try and his people.
CRAOIḂÍN AOIḂINN.
Cá ḃ-fuil, a ngort na tola, 'measg na
n-duille,
Rud niṁeaṁail ċo h-olc le driseog an
Ḟuaṫ'?
A ḋriseoig a tá olc go mall 's go luaṫ,
O! go minic tá tú dearg le sruṫaiḃ fola!
Is baoġalaċ — níos baoġalaiġe, 'measg na
coille,
Ḃeiṫ 'timċioll do ḋealg ngarḃ as cruaiḋ,
Ioná ḃeiṫ teiṫeaḋ ó 'n náṁaid ḃ-feall,
gan truaiġ,
No ag reubaḋ air ċairrgeaċaiḃ an tuile
A Ċraoiḃín Aoiḃinn áird air ċrann
Tír-ġraḋ',
Os cionn na n-driseog a's na luiḃ 'tá
faoi,
Is áluinn tá do ḋuilleaḃar a's do bláṫ,
Blasda le fuaím na n-eun 's na m-beaċ
a ċaoiḋ' !
Is maiṫ, is maiṫ tá an bláṫ 's an ceol
[sin — aċt
Níos feárr béiḋ an toraḋ tíreamail
'tá ag teaċt
Translation —
Where grows there, in the garden of thought,
A thing so deadly as the bramble Hate?
O evil plant, 'tis early, oft, and late
Thy thorns and leaves with guiltless blood are
fraught.
'Tis dangerous — more dangerous than aught
That else may be — to pass where thou dost wait :
More dreadful thou, than foe infuriate,
In victory, or wreck in breakers caught.
But, joyous Branchlet on the Tree of Love —
True Country — Love and Love of Countrymen —
How beautiful thy blossoms smile above!
How sweet thy bird-songs rising through the
glen !
Sweet is thy bloom, swest is thy music — yet
Swseter the fruit thy land from thee will get.
L. M Baldwin.
