AN GAODHAL.
39
your ancestors had a refined and learned literature
and the machinations of the enemy of your race and
nation to asperse you are unavailing. But your as¬
sertions that your forefathers did possess them are
no proof ; the language itself is the proof. Permit
this to vanish and you are at the mercy of an en-
vious, bigoted enemy to mete out whatever measure
of social recognition interest or malice may dictate
AESOP'S FABLES.
(Translation after each)
AN MADA 'SAN UMAR.
Do rinne Mada a leaba ann umar,
agus do bhí sé air feadh na h-aimsire a
tathfaint agus a gnúsaracht le na cap-
allaibh a chongbháil ó ithe a m-bith. "Feuch,"
a deir ceann aca, "cia 'n gadhar gort-
ach! nach féidir leis arbhar ithe é fhéin,
agus ní mian leis cead a thabhairt do 'n
mhuintir fheudas é ithe."
THE DOG IN THE MANGER.
A DOG made his bed in a Manger, and lay snarl-
ing and growling to keep the horses from their pro-
vender. “See,” said one of them,"what a miserable
cur! who neither can eat corn himself, nor will allow
those to eat it who can.”
AN FEAR DALL AGUS AN COIL¬
EÁN ÓG.
Bhí Fear Dall ann agus air láimhsiugh-
adh d' aon ainmhidhe dhó, d' innseochadh sé
a chineál. Am airighthe tugagh coileán
mada allta chuige. Láimhsuigh sé thart
é, agus air amhrus a bheith air a d-taobh
a cineála, dubhairt sé, "Ní 'l fios agam
a rabh d' athair na mhada no na mhada
allta; acht tá fios agam air seo, nach
m-beidheadh aon mhuinighin agam asad a-
measg treud caorach."
taisbeánan droch mhianta iad féin go
luadh.
THE BLIND MAN AND THE WHELP.
A BLIND Man was wont, on any animal being put
into his hands, to say what it was. Once they brought
to him a Wolf's whelp. He felt it all over, and being
in doubt, said, “I know not whether thy father was
a Dog or a Wolf; but this I know, that I would not
trust thee among a flock of sheep."
Evil dispositions are early shown.
NA ROITHE GÍOSGÁNACH.
Am fad ó mar do bhí cuingir dhámh a
tarraint cairte air fad bothar trom,
salach, do thosuigh na Roithe gíosgán go
h-abheil. "A bhrúid!" a deir an te bhí
tomáint na cairte; "cia 'n fáth a g-
cneadann tú, 'nuair atá an mhuintir a
tá tarraint an ualaigh go h-uile na
d-tosd?
Ní shiad an mhuintir is mó bhídheas gor-
tuighthe gnidheas an gleo is áirde.
THE CREAKING WHEELS.
AS some Oxen were dragging a wagon along a heavy
road, the Wheels set up a tremendous creaking.
"Brnte!” cried the driver to the wagon; "why do you
groan, when they who are drawing all the weight
are silent?"
Those who cry loudest are not always the most
hurt.
THE.
KELTIC TONGUE.
The language of old Erin, of her history and name:
Of her monarchs and her heroes — her glory and her
fame —
The sacred shrine where rested, thro' sunshine and
thro' gloom,
The spirit of her martyrs, as their bodies in the
tomb —
The time-wrought shell, where murmured, ’mid cen-
turies of wrong,
The secret voice of Freedom in annal and in song —
Is slowly surely sinking, into silent death at last,
To live but in the memories of those who love the
Past.
The Keltic Tongue is passing, and we stand coldly by
Without a pang within the heart, a tear within the
eye —
Without one pulse for Freedom stirred, one effort
made to save
The Language of our Fathers from dark oblivion's
grave!
Oh, Irishmen, be Irish still ! stand for the dear old
tongue
Which, as ivy to a ruin, to your native land has clung!
Oh, snatch this relic from the wreck ! the only and
the last,
And cherish in your heart of hearts the language of
the Past !
MICHAEL MULLIN.
