AN GAOḊAL
849
SECOND BOOK,
Exercise I. Ḃ.
Ḃ broad sounds like w in wool, as
ḃur, (woor), your. Between two short
broad vowels it is sounded softly, much
like w in power, as gaḃar [ gower, ], a
goat.
If the broad vowel preceding or fol¬
lowing ḃ, be long, it gets the sound ei¬
ther of w or v. In Munster v is more
generally heard.
Ḃ slender sounds exactly like v, as
ḃí, vee, was. When final, ḃ is usually
sounded v, as garḃ, rough, pronounced
gorv.
pronunciation.
agaiḃ, at, or with, you, augiv.
ḃí, was, vee.
ḃur, your, woor.
duḃ, black, dhuv.
fíor-ḃuan, steadfast, feerwoon
gaḃar, a goat, gowar,
buan, lasting, boo-un.
cara, carad, a friend, kor-ah, koradh.
garḃ, rough, gorv.
leaḃar, a book, lhowur.
leanḃ, a child, lhanuv.
liḃ, with you, liv.
siḃ, you, ye, shiv.
tarḃ, bull, thoruv.
fíor, true, feer.
1 An gaḃar. 2 tarḃ duḃ. 3 ḃí siḃ
garḃ. 4 ḃí sé duḃ. 5 ḃí an gaḃar duḃ.
6 ḃí leaḃar agaiḃ. 7 tá an leaḃar ag¬
aiḃ. 8 ḃur leanḃ. 9 cara fíor-ḃuan.
10 ḃí gaḃar agaiḃ.
1 The goat. 2 a black bull. 3 ye
were rough. 4 he was black. 5 the
goat was black. 6 you had a book.
7 you have a book. 8 your child. 9
a steadfast friend. 10 you had a goat.
AN t-IOLRAĊ agus an SAIĠEAD.
(The Eagle and the Arrow.)
Vocabulary.
cloigeann, head, kluigun.
clúṁaċ, feathers kloo-augh.
ċonnairc, did see, chon-irk.
géire, com, of geur, sharp, gay-re.
ġniġeamar, we make, knee-mur.
iargan, groans of dying, eergun.
iarraċt, aim, attempt, errucht.
iompuiġ, to turn, umpy.
iolraċ, iolar, eagle, ulraugh.
lann, gen. pl. weapons, lhann.
lotṫa, wounds, lhotha.
saiġead, arrow, dart, etc., sigh-udh.
saiġeadóir, bowman, sigh-dhoughir
Do ṫug Saiġeadóir iaraċt air Iolraċ
agus ḃuail ann a ċroiḋe é. Mar i d'
iompuiġ an t-Iolraċ a ċloigeann i n-iar¬
gan ḃáis, ċonnairc sé go raḃ sgiaṫáin
d'a ċlúṁaċ ṡéin air an Saiġead. "Naċ
géire go mór," a deir sé, "lotṫa na
lann a ġniġeamar féin!"
A Bowman took aim at an Eagle
and hit him in the heart. As the Ea¬
gle turned his head in the agonies of
death, he saw that the arrow was win¬
ged with his own feathers. "How much
more sharper," said he, "are the
wounds made by weapons which we
ourselves have supplied!”
The moral of this Fable comes home
directly to those Irishmen who supply
England with, and use, the weapon to
destroy their own Nationality. The I¬
rishman who does nothing to preserve
his language, the life-blood of the Na¬
tion, is a deeper-dyed traitor to his
country than a Corridon or a Car
The Careys would sacrifice a few indi¬
vidual lives to secure their personal
freedom: he sacrifices the life of his
nation. This comes hard on our "pro¬
minent Irish Nationalists” [?], but let
them, if they can, controvert the tru¬
ism emphasized in the agonies of death
by the noble subject of the Fable !
In view of the fact that the Irish
leaders are smart, intelligent men,
their neglect of the foundation of their
nationality, their language, seems to
put them on a par with the ordinary
politician — self-seeking.
