AN GAOḊAL
637
'Siad so clann ár g-coṁarsan, na sag¬
airt óga.
An teanga úd do laḃaír an ṁuintir a
ṫóig iad.
A n-aiṫir 'sa máṫair 'sa sinsir rómpa,
An teanga úd bo ḋual dóiḃ agus bo
ḋuṫċus,
Ag meaṫ le fada le neart spaideaṁ¬
laċt.
Is maiṫ liom siḃ go léir beiṫ go seaḃ¬
raċ,
Gan tinnios air biṫ orraiḃ ná treaḃ¬
lúid,
Ná máiġistríḋe tacar air doṁan or¬
ruiḃ,
Agus áitreaḃ ṡaor gaċ am 'guiḃ.
Is fusa duit réiġteaċ leis na punċáin,
Ná ḃeiṫ ag plé le talaṁ, cíos 's cáin,
A's gan leaṫ a luaċ air ḃanaṁ ná
cráin.
'Sis deacair go deiṁin an cíos ḋ'ḟáġ¬
ailt.
Do Ċara,
TOMÁS RUAḊ.
TOMÁS RUAḊ bemoans the fact
that the Irish Catechism is no longer
taught in the chapels, and gives the
young priests who neglect to do some¬
thing to try to preserve the speech of
their fathers and of their country a
keen rebuke. People wonder why the
Irish preserved their religion and per¬
mitted their language to fall into de¬
cay. The cause is obvious. The rel¬
igion was preserved because it was pro¬
tected by the most powerful and the
best discipined organization in the
world — The Catholic Church.
Had the language such an organi¬
zation at its back it would be protect¬
ed too.
Éilge, an ancient name of Ireland.
The following quaint old melody, one of Caro¬
lan’s baccanalian songs, I copied from the sing¬
ing of Mr. James M'Hugh, New York City. It
was the first time I heard any thing but the re¬
frain song, I send it as I heard it. The air is a
very old one, and one of that great Carolan's
best. Lovers of Irish music hearing an old coun¬
tryman play will always ask: "Do you play Car¬
olan's Receipt?” If you or any of the readers
of the Gael ever came to Scranton you will hear
it played by
Yours for Ireland and her language,
M. J. LOVERN.
CAROLAN'S RECEIPTS.
(Sent by Prof. LOVERN, Scranton, Pa)
Tinn agus ní slán a ṫarlaiḋ mé,
Ġluais mé trá, agus b'airde mo sgeul,
Air cuairt ag Seáġan ċum sócúil d'ḟáġ¬
[ail,
Mar is taḃarnóir breáġ, sáiṁ é
Air gnáṫaċ a ḃeiṫ gan ceól;
A ḃeiṫ seal air mire, seal air buile,
Reuba teud 's dul le mire.
An faision úide cleaċtamar,
Ní sgarfmuid go deó,
Aċ innseam díḃ é,
Agus airisiḃ go d-ti an saoġal é;
Más maiṫ liḃ a ḃeiṫ saoġalaċ,
Aċt beiḋeaċ muid aig ól.
Dá d-tioċfaċ an meaḋon oiḋċe,
Beiḋeaḋ sinn aig ól,
Agus air maidin airist an cordial,
Sé ḃás mé ó céil, go m-b'é sin an gleus
Leis an g-Carolán Caoċ a beóċán,
A ḃeiṫ seal air mire, &c.
'Sí Nansaiġ an planda a g-cantain go
leór,
Agus naċ aoiḃinn go 'n ḃaintreaċ a
leanan sí dó,
Ní'l duke no oiġre a ḃ-Flanders naċ
ḃ-fuil a triall go Glinders,
Mar súil go ḃ-fáġaċ faill cainte
Le planda 'n ċúil óir.
A ḃeiṫ seal air mire, &c.
Sí is ciallṁaire 'gus 's ceannsa,
Neaṁ-stamraċ gan ḃrón,
Ci go rinneann sí go leór go'n ċórdial,
Agus fíon dearg donn,
Genéḃa agus rum agus farsaineaċt go
leann breáġ Mairte,
A ḃeiṫ seal, &c.
Is mín a mala, is geal a leacaḋ,
Gruaiġ faoi lasaḋ mar 'a rósa,
Cíġ co-cruinn, mar cailcaḋ nár feuċ¬
aḋ go fóill,
Faoi aitís agus pléisiúr tá 'n doṁan
Vide
Hardiman
Vol. I. p. 22.
