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AN GAOḊAL.
CÓṀAIRLE do ÉIREANNAIḂ
Le
M. aBÚRCA.
Giḋ coṁairle gan éirlis
Ḋíbse beiḋ tairḃeaċ;
Éisdiḋe go léir leis,
Ciallṁar, calamaċ.
A n-gleantaiḃ 'sa sléiḃtiḃ,
A m-bailtiḃ 'sa g-caraċaiḃ,
Cuiṁniḋe air Éire,
Tír ḃur n-aiṫreaċaḋ.
Congḃaiġiḋ re ċéile
Go páirteaċ, caradaċ,
'S diúltaiġiḋ gaċ treiġṫiḃ
Náireaċ, scannallaċ.
Cleaċtaiġiḋ na beusa
Fialṁar, caranaċ,
Léiġtear air Ġaeḋiliḃ
A leaḃaraiḃ seanaċuis.
Seaċ'naiġiḋ na treudṫa
Leonṁar, ṁadaraċ.
Innsiġeas díḃ sgeulta
Breugaċ bladaraċ,
Ṁeallfaċ go léir siḃ,
Mar ṁeall a n-aiṫreaċa
'Sgo m-báiṫeoċ' gan spéis siḃ
A lár na fairge.
Sin iad a treiġṫe,
Dream neaṁ-feasaraċ,
Ċróċṫoċ' go léir siḃ,
Air nós na Sasanaċ.
A ċáirḋe mo ċléiḃe,
(Críoċnuġaḋ an t-seanaċuis)
Congḃaiġiḋ re ċéile,
'S beiḋ siḃ ceannasaċ.
Far off an Island lies,
Of fertile soil and healthy atmosphere,
Whose fruitful fields in rich luxuriance rise,
And golden harvests bear.
An Isle of woe and song,
An Isle renowned in pristine days of yore,
An Isle unrivalled in the depth of wrong,
For centuries she bore.
And yet with all her woes,
She still maintains her Native will supreme,
Unconquered yet tho' mighty were her foes,
And sufferings extreme.
She yet that will retains,
That motive pow'r thus springing from the
[soul,
And as the will, the wished for object gains,
The will then rules the whole.
Advice to Irishmen, by
MICHAEL BURKE.
(Translation)
This counsel tho' gratis
You'll find to have merit;
Attention now sought is —
Come all you and hear it.
On vale and on highland,
And near the blue waters,
Think of old Ireland,
The home of your Fathers.
Be friends in a crisis;
Be kind in your manner,
And, shuuning such vices
As bring you dishonor.
Be anxious, desirous,
Of that virtue and glory.
We read of the Irish
In legend and story.
Beware of these traitors —
These wolves in sheep's cloth¬
[ing,
Who soften their features
With flatterings loathing,
To win and deceive you,
As oft did their Fathers,
Would willingly heave you
In fathomless waters.
These, these the devices,
Of the Orange here hoarded,
Who'd cut you to slices
As the English before did.
Dear friends, as a Brother,
In ending my story,
Pray help one another
In virtue and glory.
That heav'nly spark remains,
Tho' despot laws be rampant all the while,
For Irish blood is still in Irish veins,
Of native and exile.
If will be then a might,
As doubtless all must verily confess,
Could despots stand, did we but all unite,
And will our happiness ?
We would be anxious to know what Salisbury
(the probable descendant of a Danish pirate)
thought of Mr. Blain's royal contribution ($5.000)
to the Parnell Home Rule Fund. Mr. Blaine does
not take much stock in mushroom nobility.
Mr. Blaine's speech on the Irish question is the
grandest yet delivered on the subject. We wish
our shoddy Irishmen who ape Englishism would
cultivate Mr. Blaine's estimate of English "nobil¬
ity."
