AN GAOḊAL.
741
THE SECOND BOOK. (continued)
Rule XIII.
The interection a, the sign of the
vocative case, always causes aspiration
both in singular and plural of nouns
and singular number of adjectives.
Exercise XXX.
a ḃean, O woman. a ċlaḋaire, O cow¬
ard, a ḋaoine, O people. a ḋearḃra¬
ṫair, O brother. a Dia ṁóir, O Great
God. a ḋuine ḋona, O unfortunate
man. a ḟir, O man. a ġráḋ, O love.
a ṁná, O women. a Ṁáire ḋílis, O
dear Mary. a ṗáisde ḃig, O little child
a ṡean-ḟir ṡona, O fortunate old man.
a Ṫiġearna, O Lord.
Exercise XXXI
Cléiḃ, of a bosom. cliaḃ, a bosom.
cóir, just, gil (voc.), bright. uaisle,
noble (plu. of uasal).
1 A ġráḋ ġil mo ċroiḋe. 2 A ċara
ḋílis. 3 A ḋearḃráṫair mo ċléiḃ. 4.
A duine ċóir. 5 A ċuisle mo ċroiḋe.
6 A ḟir ṁaiṫ. 7 A ṗean-ḟir ḋílis. 8.
A ṁná sona. 9 A ḃean uasail ṁaiṫ.
10 A ḋaoine uaisle.
1 O bright love of my heart. 2 O
dear friend. 3 O brother of my bosom
4 Honest man. 5 O pulse of my heart
6 Good man. 7 O dear old man. O
fortunate woman. 9 Good lady. 10
Gentlemen.
The foregoing Rules contain all the instances in
which there can be any grammatical necessity for
aspiration, and the learner has now mastered in
these thirteen Rules the most difficult part of the
Irish language. (All the Rules referred to above
are given in previous issues of THE GAEL.)
SEINN, A ĊAOIN ĊRUIT.
Seinn, a ċaoin Ċruit, seinn dom ċoiḋċ',
Aḃrán na laeṫeaḋ a ḃí
A n-glór a ṫóigfeas suas an croiḋe
Ó'n aisling a ḃ-fuil sé faoi ;—
Dán ṫráċdas air ċloṫ, 'nois gan réim,
Ṡoilsiġ orrainn solus séin;
Air uaisliḃ ḃródaċ, 'nois faoi ḃéim,
'Gus dóṫċuis tá ċoiḋċe faon, —
Seinn, a Ċruit ḃrónaiġ, seinn dom ḟéin:
Ó tá ar n-dán aon mar aoin,
Caillte, aċ do ṁeaḃair, araon,
Maireamuid aċ i n-imċéin.
Naċ dúḃaċ gaoṫ meaḋon na h-oiḋċ',
'G osnaiġil 'measg do ṫeudaḋ,
Tóruiġeaċt macall' ann, go baoḋ,
De ġlór tá faḋ'ó eugṫaḋ ;—
Taoiseaċ, 'nois as meaḃair, a ḃí
A d-tosaċ in sin a n-glóir;
Bárd, ce measaḋ síoruiġe 'san t-slíġe,
'Nna g-codlaḋ 'nois gan onóír. —
Is baoḋ, a Ċruit ċaoi, gaoṫ ṁea'n oiḋċ'
Ṫríd do ṫeudaiḃ 'gosnaiġil ċoiḋċ';
Is baoḋ a tóir air ṁacall; ann,
Na n-glór 'd'imṫiġ fad'ó uainn.
Dá ḃ-feudṫá na spioraid do ġlaoḋ',
Ce i sgáṫ 'sa h-alla ḃíoḋ,
'Na suiḋeaḋ 'g éisteaċt led' ċeol síġe,
Tá 'nois balaṁ 's aig críonúġ' ċoiḋċ',
Ní seaḋ ; ḋúiseoċ' siad aċ ag caoin'
Sgláḃuiġeaċt a g-clannaḋ féin;
An sin a ḃ-fágáil ann a suain',
Tá na marḃ saorṫaḋ, aṁáin ! —
Ṫist, ṫist, a Ċruit ċaoi, an guṫ aṁraḋ,
Creidillḃáis lae na saoirse.
No 'g éisteaċt le na h-eug-osnaḋ,
Lig dom ḃeiṫ a m-bás sínte,
SING, SWEET HARP.
SING, sweet Harp, oh sing to me
Some song of ancient days,
Whose sounds, in this sad memory
Long buried dreams shall raise ;—
Some lay that tells of vanish'd fame.
Whose light once round us shone,
Of noble pride, now turn'd to shame,
And hopes forever gone. —
Sing, sad Harp, thus sing to me;
Alike our doom is cast,
Both lost to all but memory,
We live but in the past
How mournfully the midnight air
Among thy chords doth sigh.
As if it sought some echo there
Of voices long gone by. —
Of chieftains, now forgot, who seem'd
The foremost then in fame.
Of Bards who, once immortal deem'd,
Now sleep without a name. —
In vain, sad Harp, the midnight air
Among thy chords doth sigh,
In vain it seeks an echo there
Of voices long gone by.
Couldst thou but call those spirits round,
Who once, in bower and hall,
Sat listening to thy magic sound,
Now mute and mould'ring all.
But, no, they would but wake to weep
Their children's slavery.
Then leave them in their dreamless sleep,
The dead, at least, are free ! —
Hush, hush, sad Harp, that dreary tone,
That knell of Freedom's day;
Or, listening to its death-like moan
Let me, too, die away.
