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AN GAOḊAL
an méid a ḃeiḋeaḋ aige taréis cúraim
a ṫiġe do ċur a g-cóir.
O, náċ mór an truaġ, air son na
Gaeḋilge, náċ ḃ-fuil a leiṫid sin le h-
éiriġ! aċt fan go fóill; Cia ag a ḃfuil
fios? Agus anois, a Ṡaoi, taḃarfad
suaiṁneas duit, ag guiḋe anns an am
ceudna go m-biaiḋ an Gaoḋal gan stad,
air son na Gaeḋilge, níos Gaoḋalaiġe,
agus tú féin seunṁar agus fadsaoġal¬
aċ ós a ċionn. —
"Seanġualainn."
[Tá súil againn go n-éireoċaiḋ leis
an Saoi Mac Ḃáird má ḋeunfaiḋ sé
maiṫ do ċúis na Gaeḋilge. Tá sé 'na
fear óg sgíoṁaċ, ġeanaṁuil, ġnaoiḋea¬
ṁuil, lán de ḟonn is de ġreann, agus
mar sin, ní'l fios againn cia 'n fáṫ naċ
n-éireoċaḋ leis ; aċ, mar aon le go
leor d'a ṫíreaċaiḃ, tá sé ro ċúṁal, ro
ċaoṁaṁuil, F. G.]
AN TÍR-ĠRÁḊUIĠṪEOIR.
(By L. M. BALDWIN.)
Do ċonnairc sé
A ṫír, do ḃí
Faoi 'n náṁaid daoi, gan trócaire,
'Gus corpa dearg'
Air ṁaġ 's air ċarraig
Le maduiġiḃ fearguiġ stróice;
'Gus sé a ṁóid,
Gan sgiṫ do ṫroid
Go raḃ a náṁaid air a ċróċar,
Go raiḃ gaċ aon
'Na luiḋe go faon,
'Gus sínte claon, gan cogar.
Do ċonnairc sé,
Ann Éirinn, an ċré
Gan teaċ, gan spré, 'nn a díṫreaḋ,
'Gus fear, 'gus páisde,
'Gus naoiḋeanán gan baisdeaḋ
'Measg loisgṫe a g-cisde, gan saoraḋ;
'Gus sé a ráḋ,
An náṁaid do ċráḋ',
Do ċur a ḃláṫ faoi náire,
Do losgaḋ a ċaṫair,
Do ċreaċaḋ a ḃoṫar,
'S le sgaoileaḋ urṫar d'á ḃuaiḋreaḋ.
Do ċonnairc sé,
A g-céin, 'sa g-cré,
Uaiṁ gaisgiḋeaċ Éireann 'nn a g-cod¬
[laḋ.
'Gus clann na nGaoḋal,
Air feaḋ an t-saoġail,
Gan eudaċ 'gus a m-beula falaṁ ;
A's duḃairt go cóir —
'S beiḋ Neaṁ a fóir' —
"Sgriosfad go mór a ṡealḃ,
Creaċfad a ċum
'Gus a ainm go lom,
Go m-béiḋ a ċeann crom air an talaṁ."
The Patriot.
[Translation.]
He saw his land,
By spoiler's hand,
A bare and plundered waste;
He saw where blood
Had wet the sod
And corpses fed the beast;
And in his youth
He took an oath
That ne’er henceforth he'd rest
Till every foe
In death lay low,
With every woe redressed.
He saw the soil
Of Erin's isle
To desert wild returning,
Where babes and men
Had murdered been
And homes defenseless burning ;
And so, in sooth,
He took an oath,
He vowed in youth's fresh morning,
That he'd oppose
The heinous cause
Of Ireland's woes and scorning.
He saw the grave
Of Ireland's brave
Beyond the waves' wild element;
Her children faint
From dearth and want,
Vile food and scant habiliment;
And so he said —
A vow he made —
And heaven will aid fulfillment —
"I'll rend his frame
Until his name
Be scoffing, shame, revilement!"
