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AN GAOḊAL.
Do na h-Éireannaiġiḃ a b-Parlamuint,
agus do Éireanniġiḃ eile.
Air feaḋ an ġeiṁriġ so tá na h-Éir¬
eannuiġ d'a g-cur amaċ as a d-tiġṫiḃ
féin — fir agus mná agus páisdiḋe.
Caiṫfiḋ siad a ḋul go teaċ na m-boċt,
no ḟanaċt amaċ gan dídean ann aġaiḋ
na gaoiṫe, na fearṫainne, agus an
sneaċta.
Siad coṁarṫana ḃur neirt a's smaċta,
Teinteaċ, toirneaċ, fearṫainn, sneaċta;
Buail an Sasannaċ a's a ṡean-reaċda,
Buail air son ḃur d-tíre! buail!
Nuair a ċruinniġeas na neulta ṫarr¬
ainn,
Nuair a ṁeuduiġeas na h-aiḃne le fear¬
ṫainn,
Nuair a ḃeiḋeas stoirm ag teaċt air
Éirinn,
Biḋiḋ ḃur stoirm air son Innse Fáil!
Nuair a iompuiġeas duḃ na neulta
gorma,
Nuair a ḃeiḋeas líonta na srúṫa tior¬
ma,
Nuair a ṡéideas go garḃ gaoṫ na stoir¬
me,
Biḋiḋ ḃur n-dílinn air son Innse Fáil!
Nuair a lasuiġeas oiḋċe le teinteaċ,
Nuair a ḟuaimeas an tóirneaċ go sín¬
teaċ,
Nuair a ċriṫeas an sliaḃ go h-iong¬
antaċ,
Ḃiḋiḋ ḃur d-teinteaċ air son Innse
Fáil!
Nuair a ṫraoġuiġeas srúṫa a's síon,
Nuair a ṡoillsiġeas arís an ġrian,
A Ċlann na nGaoḋal, a Ċlann na ḃ-
Fian,
Biḋiḋ ḃur nGaṫ-Gréine Innse Fáil!
Translation.
TO THE IRISHMEN in PARLIAMENT, and OTHER
IRISHMEN.
Throughout this winter, the Irish are being put
out of their own houses — men, women and children.
They must go to the poor house or endure without
shelter, the wind, the rain and the snow.
See the symbols of your power —
Lightning, thunder, moon, and shower,
Strike the Saxon till he cower!
Strike for Ireland’s freedom, strike.
When the clouds in heaven assemble,
When the raging torrents tumble,
When the storm makes Ireland tremble,
Be a storm for Ireland's sake.
When the blue of heaven is banished,
And the thirsty brook replenished,
And the roaring wood astonished
Be a flood for Ireland's sake.
When the night gleams heaven under,
When long-swelling bursts the thunder,
When the mountain shakes in wonder,
Lightning be for Ireland's sake.
When the storm has ceased its roaring,
When the sun its beams is pouring,
When, with glorious standard soaring,
Let old Erin's Sun-Burst blaze.
The above poem, with translation, is by Mr.
Baldwin, a member of the P C S, who has made
splendid progress]
T. J, Madigan, Pittsburg Pa. — The
Irish for "raw egg" is uḃ aṁ, as, d'iḃ
dáṁ duḃ uḃ aṁ. It is said that in the
time of Queen Mary the question arose
as to which, the Saxon or Irish, should
be adopted as the language of England,
the Latin and the French being up to
then the language of the country.
The queen, it is said, favored the Ir¬
ish language on account of its antiqui¬
ty and of the number of illustrious sa¬
ges and saints whose language it was.
But it seems that the enemies of every thing Irish,
then as well as now, had the royal ear, and one of
them picked out the most inharmonious sounds in
the lrish language as a specimen to present to her
majesty, and compared it to the barking of a dog,
and the sentence presented to her majesty was, —
D' iḃ dáṁ duḃ uḃ aṁ, a black ox drank
a raw egg.
Poor Black Jack Logan's subscription to the
Gael has three years yet to run, from the first issue.
Yet he did not want his name published — Sit tibi
terra levis.
The Philo-Celtic Society of Philadelphia work
as well as talk. Its subscription and that of A. P.
Ward’s are the only ones yet received for the Dub¬
lin Gaelic Journal.
St. Joseph's MO. has a fine selection of young pat¬
riotic Irishmen who are putting their shoulders to
the Gaelic wheel. We expect to hear of big things
from them in the near future.
