réiteaċ liom-sa," ar Seáġanaċ, & aon¬
ṫuiġ sé fuireaċ nna ḟoċair go ċeann
bliaḋna nó ciabé am gur ṁaiṫ le nna
ṫiġearna sgaraṁuint leis.
"Is é an gnó tá agam duit," ar an
riġ (riġ na h-áite ba é), "beiṫ ag feiḋil
bó ; tá bioṫaṁnuiġ faṫaċ ion a g-cóṁ¬
nuiḋe taoḃ liom; ní ḃ-fagaim suaim¬
neas lae ioná oiḋċe uaṫa; ní leóṁarr
mo ḃa dul ion a raḋarc aċt mar a
sgiobaid iad, & ní ḟeicim a maiṫ ioná
a d-tuairiosg as sin amaċ." "Má's sé
sin mo ġnó-sa," ar Seáġanaċ, "seo mo
láṁ duit, & geallaim naċ scarfad leat
nó go scriosfad as an áit iad nó mu¬
na d-tiocfaiḋ liom san a ḋéanaṁ nó
go marḃfaiḋ siadsan mise." Ar ċlos
san don riġ ċuir sé smiota gáir as.
(Le ḃeiṫ ar leanaṁain).
The following address was received the latter
part of April last but got mislaid. We take great
pleasure in producing it now. It was delivered of
the occasion of the renovating of the monument
erected over the grave of Edward Walsh, the Irish
Poet, in Saint Joseph’s Cemetery, Cork, by Mr
Gleeson. We have not altered one word of the
address, so that the reader has it as we received it.
"Támaoid cruinniġṫe a' n-diu, anns
an át-so, os ċíonn an n-uaġ, ann a' ḃ-
fuil ċorp Éadḃárd Breaṫnaċ sínte, ag
ónórúġaḋ a ċuiṁne. Ónóramaoid é,
mar fileaḋ & Úġdar do sgríoḃ teanga
a ḋúṫaiḋ ḟéin, & duine ag raiḃ gráḋ &
gean aige air. Do sgríoḃ sé leaḃra
Aḃráin Gaoḋailge Tioraṁail, & do h-
aisdriḋiḋ sé íad go Sacsḃeurla. Ón¬
óramaoid é, mar a g-céadna, mar
Tíorġráḋuiġṫeoir, mar aon neaċ, ag
ḃ-fuil greánn aige air ṫeanga ḋúṫasaċ
& a ġráḋuiġin a ṫír 'san ám g-ceadna,
is Tíorġráḋuiġṫeoir ḟíor-ṁaiṫ é. 'Tá
daoine ann & a' deir siad gur Tíor¬
ġráḋuiġṫeoiríġe 'seaḋ íad, aċt 'tá
náire orra aon ḟocal Gaoḋailge a'
laḃairt, no é do adṁáil aṁáin, & fios
aca air. 'Tá Éireannaiġe eile ann &
'tá náire orra-so naċ ḃ-fuil eolas aca
air ṫeanga a d-tíre féin, aċt ní ḃ-fuil
leiġeas aca air, mar ní raiḃ caoi aca
é d'ḟoġluim. Is feárr na Tíorġráḋ¬
uiġṫeoiríġe íad-so na an ṁuintir eile
a ṡéanas Gaoḋailge. Ní mar sin do
Éadḃárd Breaṫnaċ, mar do féidir leis
teanga ḃreáġ ṁilis na nGaoḋal do laḃ¬
airt, do léiġeaḋ, & do sgríoḃ, mar 'tá
ann mo láiṁ leaḃar do sgríoḃ sé. Aċt,
ḟaraoir! do ṫóg an bás as an saoġal-
so é, roiṁ a ḃí sé a' ṁeoḋan aois, mar
ní raiḃ sé aċt ċúig ḃliaḋna & dá-ḟiċid
'nuair d'éug sé, bliaḋain & dá-ḟiċid ó
ṡoin. Do ṫóġaḋ Clann na nGaoḋal &
a ċáirde Cros-líag os a ċíonn, do ṫais¬
beánt do'n doṁan uile go raib mór-
ṁeas aca air; aċt ag ṫuitim do, ċum
feoċant, do aṫċóiriġṫe cáirde eile é,
'san m-blíaḋain Míle oċt g-céad aon
deug agus ċeiṫre fiċid (1891)
Taḋg Ui Glasáin,
Liosċaoinleán, Baile-Ṁaċ-Óda,
Contae Ċorcaiġe.
Translation.
We are assembled in this place to-
day over the grave wherein lies the
body of Edward Walsh, honoring his
memory.
We honor him as a Poet,
and as an Author, who wrote his coun¬
try’s language, and a man who had
love and respect for it. He wrote Irish
National Song Books, and translated
them into English. We honour him,
also, as a Patriot, as any man who has
affection for his country's tongue, and
who loves his country at the same time
is a real-good Nationalist. There are
people who say they are Nationalists,
but they are ashamed to speak a word
of Irish, or even acknowledge it, and
they knowing it. There are other
Irishmen who are ashamed that they
know not their country’s language, but
they could not help it, as they had not
the opportunity of learning it. These
are better nationalists than those that
deny Irish. Not so with Edward
Walsh, for he was able to speak, to
read, and to write the beautiful sweet
tongue of the Gael, as I hold in my
hand books written by him. But, alas!
death took him away from this world
before he reached middle age, as he
was only forty-five when he died, for¬
ty-one years ago. The Irish people
and his friends erected a Monumental
