40
AN GAODHAL.
"AN LONN DUBH RIGHEAMHUIL.
(Royal Black Bird)
Maidin aoibhinn aig dul a siúbhal dom,
Chualas maighdean mhaiseach aig osnaighil
go trom,
Le caoine as le buaireadh as croidhe
briste cléibhe,
Rádh, "Tá mo Lonndubh ritheamhuil le fán.
Meallann mo chuimhne mé, brónuigheann
mo smuainte me,
A's tá me sáruighthe le leathtrom a's le
leun;
Acht dá n-dallóchadh an bás me, mar
mhianas fíor-ghrádh me,
Tóróchad mo Lonndubh m-baile a's a
g-cian
Budh slachdmhar mo Lonndubh 'nn aon am
a Sacsan,
B' é án bláth b' áirde dh' fhás riamh ann;
Chothuigh mna-uaisle dá bhreághtha a Phear-
sann,
Óir budh é fíor-mhac an righe a bhí ann;
Acht an mioshonas breugach, tá g-cómh-
nuidh neimhchinnte,
Rinne an sgaradh brónach seo eidir mise
'gus é;
Fós, árdóchad a cháill 'sa bh-Fhrainc is
ann Spáinn,
A's geabhfad mo Lonndubh ce b' áit a b-
fuil sé.
Tigeann eunla na coille go h-uile 'nn a
g-coinne —
Tugadh an Féarán mar chéie do 'n cholm
sa trath;
Acht a síon no a suaimhneas, tá mise
cinnte,
Go d-tóróchad go bh-fághad mo fhíor-ghrádh.
Is sé ciste mho chroidhe, mo shogh a's mo
mhian,
A's go córach, m' fhíor-ghrádh, mo chroidhé
leanas thú,
Cia tá seasmhar a's fíor, is calmac a
sian:
Baill air mo Lonndubh, a's síorruidhe a
chlú.
Bhí mise a's mó Lonndubh le chéil a Sac-
san,
N'áit a rabh sé uasal ais fial ann a
chroidhe;
Acht is mairg an t-am a n-deachaidh sé
air tús ann,
Uch! b' eigin do fhágháil, gan filleadh a
choidhche.
Tá sé faoi shuim, a's meas mór 'nn Al-
bain;
A Sacsan budh measadh 'na choimhtheach é;
Fós, árdóchad a cháil sa bh-Frainc is sa
Spáinn —
Bail air mo Lonndubh ce b' áit a m-beidh
sé.
Translation.
Upon a fair morning, for soft recreation,
I heard a fair maiden making great moan,
With sighing, and sobbing, and sad lamentation,
Saying “My Blackbird, most royal, is flown.
My thoughts they deceive me, reflection doth grieve
me,
And I’m overburdened with sad misery;
Yet, if death it should blind me, as true love inclines
me,
My Blackbird I'll seek out wherever he be.
“Once in fair England my Blackbird did flourish —
He was the chief flower that in it did spring;
Prime ladies of honor his person did nourish,
Because that he was the true son of a king;
But that false fortune, which still is uncertain,
Has caused this sad parting between him and me;
Yet, his name I'll advance in Spain and in France,
And seek out my Blackbird wherever he be.
“The birds of the forest they all meet together —
The turtle was chosen to dwell with the dove;
But I am determined, in fair or foul weather,
To seek out until that I find my trne love;
He is all my heart's treasure, my joy and my pleas-
ure,
And justly, my true love, my heart follows thee,
Who art constant, and kind, and courageous of mind;
All bliss to my Blackbird wherever he be.
"In England my Blackbird and I were together,
Where he was noble and gen'rous of heart;
But woe to the time that he first went thither,
Alas! he was forced from thence to depart.
In Scotland he’s deemed, and highly esteemed;
In England he seemed a stranger to be;
Yet, his name I 'll advance in Spain and in France —
All bliss to my Blackbird wherever he be.”
Send Sixty Cents to this office and the Gaodhal
will be mailed to you for one year; act as a com-
mittee of one among your immediate circle of
friends to extend its circulation, and you will say at
the end of a year that you never participated in the
promotion of any enterprise that pleases you so
much. Also send a few copies to your friends in the
old Land to let them see that their exiled brethren
are not forgetful of their country's Language.
