AN GAOḊAL
﻿669
GAEḊEAL ÉIREANN Ċum GAEḊIL
ALBAN.
1
Mo láṁ ḋuit, a ḃraṫair is tréine,
Le fásgaḋ teann, teiṫ, mar is cóir;
'Gus taḃair ḋam do láṁ mar an g-ceud¬
[na,
Táid sgarṫa le fada go leór.
A ḃraṫair mo ċroiḋe, ní'l aon áḋḃar
Gan sinne in aonḋaċd ḃeiṫ beó;
'Gus ólfamaoid sláinte go gráḋṁar, —
"Clann Alban 'gus Éireann go deó"!
2
Giḋ seasann siad coiscéim ó ċéile,
Ceann-Tíre 1 'gus Aon-Druim 2 na n-
[gleann,
Fós, Eisean do ċrútaiġ an tuile,
Níor ṁianaiġ Sé sgaraḋ a g-clann.
Oir ṫug Sé ḋúinn innt'nne 'gus croiḋṫe
Le spioraid a's tír-ġráḋaċt lán;
'Gus níor órduiġ Sé eadrainn a ċoiḋċe
Aċt síoṫċáin 'gus ceannsaċt aṁáin.
3
Ċum sinne do ḋeunaḋ níos dílse,
Do ċum Sé príoṁ-ṫeanga ḋúinn 'raon,
Le nótaiḃ tá ceud uair níos milse
'Ná céileaḃar ceólṁar na n-eun.
An teanga a ṁair in Ard-Maċa,
Binn-ṫeanga "Iona" na g-cléir,
Nuair las síad le fóġluim na sgaṫa
Do ċúmdaiġ na tíorṫa go léir.
4
Go minic in aimsiriḃ ársuiġ,
In aoisiḃ 'nois eugṫa go deó;
Le máirséal an ṗíoba 's na cláirsiġe
Do ṡiúḃal ár n-díl-ṡinnsear ċum gleo;
'Gus mairg do'n naṁaid 'sa ḃeaṫa
Do ṡeas roiṁe saṫaḋ a lann
'Nuair d' éiriġ, go fíoċṁar, rosg-caṫa
Ó ṡliaḃ agus cnoc agus gleann!
5
Ba ġlóireaċ, ba ḃuaḋaċ na h-aoise,
Ba ṡona, ba h-aoiḃinn ár slioċt
'Nuair ba Ġaeḋilig ba ṫeanga na d-taoi-
[seaċ,
'S ba Ġaeḋilig ba ṫeanga na m-boċt!
Aċt ṫainic an mealltóir ba ḋuiḃe
Le Béarla 'gus sgeultaiḃ neiṁ-ḟíor,
A's ċuir sé pór millteaċ na niṁe
Do ṁarḃ mo ṫír a's do ṫír!
Ceann-Tíre, Cantyre, Scotland.
Aon-Druim, Antrim, Ireland.
Translated from the Irish of
"PADRAIC."
BY MICHAEL CAVANAGH.
AN IRISH GAEL to a SCOTTISH GAEL.
1
My hand to you, brave hearted brother,
With grasp earnest, warm and strong ;
And give me your hand for another,
We're parted old friend, over-long.
Oh brother ! there's no cause, I'm thinking,
Why we disunited should live:
A loving health let us be drinking —
"THE OLD GAEL!” the toast that we give.
2
Though standing a step separated,
Cantyre, and green “Antrim of vales | "
Yet He who Moyle’s billows created,
Ne’er meant they should part brother-Gaels,
For he gave us mind, heart and spirit —
Imbued with the love of our race ;
And willed that we each should inherit,
Between us love, concord, and grace.
3
That closer we should be united,
He gave us the old Mother-tongue,
The music whose strains more delighted,
Than sweetest of song birds e'er sung.
'Twas cultured in “Armagh the splendid,”
'Twas chanted in “Hy-of-the-Dove!"
When they through the nations, extended
The light of our faith, lore and love.
4
Oh, oft in the old times we treasure, —
The ages departed for aye ;—
To war-pipes' and harps' thrilling measure,
Our fore-fathers marched to the fray;
Their foes stood with terror confounded,
When, facing their death-dealing spears,
The fierce "Eye of Battle" resounded,
From mountain and glen, in their ears.
5
How gloriously bless'd were those ages,
When our kindred-nations were young;
And chieftains, and clansmen, and sages,
To Gaelic, in unison clung !
Until came the Sassanach hell-hound,
With false tongue and subtle design,
He poisoned our hearts, and when spell-bound,
He murdered your nation and mine.
Mr. P. Hally of Memphis Tenn., writes en¬
couragingly of the Gaelic movement there.
