AN GAOḊAL.
171
reason (with) for everything.
gannas, scarcity, from gan, without.
lón a luncheon, a viatic, a store.
raiḃ, was; is employed in the perfect
tense, exactly like ḃ-fuil is; in the
present tense, after particles of deny¬
ing, questioning, wishing, or suppos¬
ing, after the rel. pronouns, a, who ;
naċ, who not.
Translate into Irish. —
1 Was his head bent? 2. His head was bent
3. Was his hand slender? 4. His hand was slen¬
der, and his foot was crooked. 5. Was his hair
grey? 6. His hair was grey. 7. Was the cow
brown or white? 8. She was brown. 9. Was my
bull blue? 10. He was not, but he was yellow.
11. Was the woman young, and the man old? 12.
The woman was young, and she was under (held
in) esteem, and in affection. 13. Your husband was
old, and your son will be tall as was his father. 14
Has your daughter a son yet? 15. My young dau¬
ghter has a young son since yesterday. 16. Thy
son was under (held in) esteem and glory. 17. A
black hen lays a white egg ; literally, there is wont
to be a white egg at a black hen. 18. There is (so)
and white milk with a brown cow. 19. Was the
ear of the horse small ; his foot straight; his back
long? 20. His ear was small, and his back long,
his foot straight, and he was yesterday under car
(drafting a car) going up the hill. 21. He was not
but he was in my father's house, 22. The music
of thy mouth was sweet with me (to me); your voice
melodious and your tone so high, that I have a de¬
sire to listen to it. 23. The person who is up (in
high station) is usually under (in) dignity and re¬
putation; and he who is down (in low station) is
usually under (in) loss and in want. 24. What is
your wish? 25. It is my wish to be under (held
in) esteem ; and this wish is in my own heart. 26.
I had not happines. 27. His happiness and pros¬
perity is commonly in the hands of each person
for it is a happiness to be good with (towards) ev¬
ery other person. 28. Thy left foot was pretty
and blue was thy right eye : smooth and white was
thy hand, and long were thy fingers ; thick and in
ringlets (faineach) was thy hair, and resplendent
and sparkling was the sight of your blue eyes.
Dear Mr Logan. — It is pitiful to see so many of
the fine old Irish songs of Ireland passing away
with those who know them, without ever being
printed and many of them without being, even,
written. And it is a pity to see that many of those
now written from dictation are so badly mixed.
Those good old songs passed from one person to
a number of persons who were to a great extent
illiterate. Mr John Connolly has made a very bad
mesh of “O’Sullivan's Frolics," as it appeared in
the October number of the Gael. I heard it sung
when I was young, pretty nearly as follows, yet I
had to supply a few words myself which were lost
Yours truly,
Thomas D. Norris.
When Bachus frequented my frolics,
A d-tiġ an taḃairne lá roiṁ ġréin,
I espied a most beautiful damsel
Do ċealg mé a lár mo ċléiḃ;
Bereft of all reason and senses
Do ḋruideas go dána léi,
Saying, I wish you were truly contented
'S gaḃáil liomsa ṫar ṁnáiḃ an t-saoġail.
She vowed and declared by her goodness,
"Ní leanfad do ráiḋte béil,
Dont tease me with railings insipid
Aċt imṫiġ 'gus fág mé, a réic;
For its now I'm going down to Cork City
A tuigsint 'sa foġluim léiġin,
For a year I'll not come to this country
Ná b' ḟéidir an uair sin féin.
Her dresses and robes were enameled
A tuitim go fáineaċ léi,
Her exquisite beauty surpasses
An Ḃlánat dob' áile gné;
Her cheeks and her beautiful features
A malaíḋe, a srón 'sa béal,
So shapely and neat was her figure,
Gur imṫiġ mo ċroiḋe-se léi.
She neatly draws all images,
A ḃ-foirm le snáṫaid ċaol,
The phoenix, the lark and the linnet,
An fiolar, an ċuaċ 'sa naosg;
She's elected of Venus or Juno,
Pallas, Diana or Pales —
She really has gained from all living.
Dá n-déarfainn an t-úḃall sa ċraoḃ.
I fear its from you I'm tormented,
A ḃrinneal is áille gné,
Roving in doleful condition.
Ó ṫuiteas a n-gráḋ le'd sgéiṁ;
If God would but grant my pettition,
'S mé ċeangal le'd ḃáinċnis t-séiṁ,
All pleasures on earth would attend us
Gan uireasḃaḋ, gáḋ ná baoġal.
If you are in earnest, air 'sise,
Ní leanfad níos mó de'n léiġeann,
Though my parents do really insist on
Go ḃ-fuilim ró óg go léir;
I am the one eighth of a century,
A's cuirim leis bliaḋain uaim féin;
And if they dont consent to our wishes
Bogfamna 'n ród linn féin.
I instantly took her and kissed her,
Buḋ ḃinne ná fliút a béal;
Her words had retained me with gladness,
Is cuma cá n-gaḃan an spré,
Through meadows and sweet-scented valleys
Do ċaiṫeamar mí d' ár saoġal
Embracing and hissing each other,
Air maidin 'sa meáḋon an lae.
liom féin
Féaċ
ḟuas l. 131.
Any of our readers who have spare copies of Nos
6 & 9 of Vol. 7 would oblige by sending them.
