874
AN GAOḊAL.
"Ní ṁeiltfiḋ muilionn go deó.
Leis an uisge d'imṫiġ faoi."
Uċ! uaire diomailte 'r m-beaṫa,
Táid imṫiġṫe uainn air fad;
Uċ! an ṁaiṫ b'ḟéidir ḃeiṫ deunta!
Imṫiġṫe, caillte gan cnead!
Gráḋ b'ḟéidir linn ṡáḃáil lá,
Le aon ḟocal caoin 's tláṫ!
Smuainte deunta, gan a ráḋ,
'G eugaḋ, gan ċlos go bráṫ!
Glac an sean-ráḋ ann do ċroiḋe;
Glac, 's beir air le neart:
"Ní ṁeiltfiḋ an muilionn ċoiḋċ'
Leis an uisge ċuaiḋ ṫart."
Uċ! gráḋuiġ do Ḋia 's do ċinneaḋ —
Meas ṫú ḟéin n-diaiġ do ġaoil,
Óir tiocfaiḋ 'n t-am 'g-caiṫfir scrúda
Air ṁearḃaiḃ duḃa do ṡaoġail
Nuair béiḋeas troid na beaṫa ṫart
A's raċas an talaṁ siar
As ṡoilseoċas neaṁ ann a ġlóir
'Measg na n-deáġ sna ḃ-fíor:
Feicfir ann sinn — ní breug —
An sean ráḋ, doṁain, air d'aġaiḋ:
"Ní ṁeiltfiḋ muilionn go h-eug.
Leis an uisge d'imṫiġ uaiḋ."
"The mill will never grind
With the water that is past."
Oh! the wasted hours of life
That have swiftly drifted by,
Oh! the good we might have done,
Gone, lost without a sigh!
Love that we might once have
[saved
By a single kindly word,
Thoughts conceived but ne’er ex¬
pressed.
Perishing unpenn'd, unheard!
Take the proverb to thy soul,
Take, and clasp it fast;
“The mill will never grind
With the water that is past."
Oh! love thy God and fellow man,
Thyself consider last,
For come it will when thou must
[scan
Dark errors of the past.
And when the fight of life is o'er,
And earth recedes from view,
And heaven in all its glory shines,
Midst the good, the pure, the
true —
Then you will see more clearly
The proverb, deep and vast:
“The mill will never grind
With the water that is past."
TOBAR NA n-INĠÍNE CÚL-ḂUIḊE,
Le
LAIĠNEAĊ,
(Continued)
ṁeall daoineaḋ, agus do ḃris sean-
ḟear urramṫa asteaċ tríoṫa.
"O! cad do riġne siḃ," d' ḟiafruiḋ
sé go doḃrónaċ, mar ṫóig sé an corp
fuilteaċ 'na láṁaiḃ, agus ṫarruing siar
an coċall fasgaḋaċ, agus noċt gnúis
bán áluinn Ḟíola do ṡúil sgannruiġṫe
a h-aṫar.
"Ba dána an gníoṁ é rúd," ars an
sagart, agus é air críṫ aig moṫuiġ¬
eaċt. "Gníoṁ dána — aċt glórṁar."
Do ṫóig an Inġíon, anois air ḃruaċ
báis, a súile slámaċa ċum gnúise a h-
aṫar ḟeargaiġ. "A aṫair, a Ġríoḃṫa,"
ar sí go mall, "caiṫfiḋ siḃ-se an t-anam
do ṡaor mise le mo ċuid fola a ṡáḃáil
Ċualaiḋ mé siḃ ag taḃairt móide go
m-bainfeaḋ siḃ an t-anam sin, agus dob'
eol dam go ḃ-fuiġinn é ṡáḃáil le m'anam
féin a ċailleaṁain. Éistiḋ le n-a ṫeag¬
asg air mo ṡon, mar ġeall orm-sa a ḃí
am' ġleus lé a d'ṫarruingeann an Té
naoṁṫa ċuige féin siḃ. Déanfaiḋ sé
tráċt liḃ ar an saoġal iongantaċ ċum
a d-triallaim. A aṫair, a ḋearḃrá¬
ṫair, a Ġríoḃṫa ḋil ḋílis! móidiḋ ḋam
go n-éistfiḋ siḃ leis, agus go g-coigleó¬
ċaiḋ siḃ ḋó."
Air a m-beiṫ aṫċuingiġṫe mar so
ḋóiḃ, do ṁóiduiġeadar le guṫaiḃ cráiḋ¬
te go n-déanfaidís aṁail ba toil léiṫe.
Ḃí gnúis Ḟíola air lasaḋ anois le smig¬
eaḋ lonnraċ; do ṫug an sagart gan
toirmeasg congnaḋ déiġeanaċ na h-Ea¬
glaise ḋí, agus sul a raiḃ sé réiḋ, do
ċuir sí an t-sean-nádúir ḋí, ċum an
ḃeaṫa áluinn úd, air a ḃ-fuair sí eolas
ċoṁ goirid ó, a ṫosuġaḋ.
