60
AN GAODHAL.
See Vol.
IV. p. 477.
From
U. Bourke's
Grammar.
UI DOMHNAILL ABÚ.
Tá binn ghuth an adhairc go glórach a
géimniughadh,
'Gus gáir chath a síneadh go h-árd air
an gaoth,
Thar Loch Suiligh tá 'n treun laoch go
luathmhar a léimniughadh,
Aig na sluaighte 'nn glean Thamhair a
deifriughadh gan sgith
Síos ó gach sliabh go beo,
Treun fhir nach d-teithfeadh gleo,
Brosdaighidh faoi ghlas-bhrat bhar ngaisg-
idh, Aoidh Ruadh!
Bannach 'gus Galóglach,
Deifrighidh go chlaon aig chath!
Suas fá bhur n-díl thír, Ui Dhomhnaill Abú!
Feuch Ó'Néill, sgoith na bh-flath, chum cabh-
air a chlaonadh,
Le mór-shluagh gaisgighthe 'gus toghadh
na bh-feadhaim,
Tá míle each borb ann a roimh-rann a
síneadh,
Faoi na marcaighibh ó 'n g-cluan bh-fuil
sruth Banna ann.
'S iomdha 'n croidhe bheidheas fann,
Faoi sgath a chulaidh-lann,
Beidh geur-bhrón air námhaid, iad-fhéin bhí
gan truagh,
'Nuair cluinfear ar ngáir-ghleo,
Sgriach air an t-sionnán teo,
Brosdughadh chum díoghaltas, Ui Dhomhnaill
Abú!
Tá 'n faol-chú ann Dheas-Mhúmhain aig
ailleadh go fraochrach,
'S an t-iolrach gan eagla a sgriach air
an magh:
Tá 'n sionnach air shráidibh a faire go
caochrach,
Ní'l duine le bagairt air beo air an
bh-faith;
Fáisg uile láimh go teann,
Tuadh-chath 'gus faobhrach' lann —
Tóig ortha trom-dhíoghaltas, ceart agus
luath:
Beidh aca cráidhteach sgeul,
Air dhíl Clann na nGaodhal —
'S air treun Chlainn Ui Chonaill, Ui
Dhomhnaill Abú.
Sé 'n fío-cheart tá Clann Chonaill cos¬
aint cho toilteach,
Na teallaighe ’s na h-altóir tá ansa
dá 'r g-croidhe;
Tá lorg an námhaid 'nn a m-bán fhásach
fuilteach!
Le lasair a d-teinte tá soilseach
meadhon oidhche;
Suas le gach laoch mar sin
'N g-cian gleo bhí agaibh roinn;
A Chlainn Chonaill dhílis, all-nearthmhar
faoi bhruth!
Airighéann an Sacsan feall
Trom-bhuillidhe Clann na nGaodhal!
Buail fá bhur nglas thír, Ui Dhomhnaill
Abú!
O DONNELL ABOO.
Proudly the note of the trumpet is sounding,
Loudly the war cries arise, on the gale,
Fleetly the steed by Lough Swilly is bounding
To join the thick squadrons in Saimear's green
vale.
On ev’ry mountaineer,
Strangers to flight and fear,
Rush to the standard of dauntless Red Hugh!
Bonnought and Gallowglass,
Throng from each mountain pass!
On for old Erin O'Donnell aboo!
Princely O’Neil to our aid is advancing
With many a chieftain and warrior clan ;
A thousand proud steeds in his vanguard are pran-
cing,
’Neath the borderers brave from the banks of the
Bann:
Many a heart shall quail
Under its coat of mail ;
Deeply the merciless foeman shall rue,
When on his ear shall ring,
Borne on the breeze's wing,
Tirconnell's dread war-cry, “O'Donnell aboo!'
Wildly o’er Desmond the war wolf is howling,
Fearless the eagle sweeps over the plain,
The fox in the streets of the city is prowling, —
All, all who would scare them are banished or slain!
Grasp, every stalwart hand,
Hackbut and battle-brand,
Pay them all back the deep debt so long due :
Norris and Clifford well
Clan of Tir-Connell tell, —
Onward to glory, “0'Donnell aboo!"
Sacred the cause that Clann-Conaills defending,
The altars we kneel at and home of our sires ;
Ruthless the ruin the foe is extending,
Midnight is red with the plunderer's fires !
On with O'Donnell then,
Fight the old fight again,
Sons of Tir-Conaill, all valiant and true!
Make the false Saxon feel,
Erin's avenging steel!
Strike for your country “O'Donnell aboo!"
