﻿96
AN GAODHAL.
'S ní 'l fios mo dhóláis ag neach 'san t-
saoigheal.
Ní'l acht uair bheag ó d'fhág mesi Eo-
chaill,
As dubhairt mo stór liom gan filleadh
arís,
'S gur cailín scoithte me, tá ag siúbhal
an bhóthair
Ag iarradh 'n eolais go Ceapadh-Choínn ---
'N aimhdheoin a n-geallann tú gach h-uile
shórt dam,
Ní ghnidhim de d' ghlórtaibh acht cómhrádh
baois.
As dá sgaoilfeá bhaile me gan fiudh na
m-bróga,
Fuaras cómhairle gan do leanamhain
coídhche."
Ag so mo lámh duit nach bh-fuilim pósta
S gur buachaill óg mé thug gean do mnaoi,
'S da n-gluaisfeá liomsa air d-tús go
h-Eochail,
Dar liom d'ar n-dóich! budh leat lóistín
oidhche ----
Chuirfinn thigh cáil cap ort' a g-ceart 's
a g-coir,
Gúnadh, clóca, agus caipisinn,
Siopa dramanna, m-biadh fíon as beoir
ann.
Is gach uile nidh bheurfá suairc do mnaoi.
Vol. I Hardiman page 348.
AIR ÉIRE NÍ INNSEÓCHAINN CIA SHÍ.
(By Walsh.)
A raoir 's mé téarnamh air neoin
Air an taobh eile do'n teora 'na m-bím.
Do thaobhnaigh an spéir-bhean am chóir
D' fhág taonnach breoidhte, lag sinn;
Do gheillios da méin 's da clódh,
Da beul tanaidh, beo-mhilis binn,
'S gur léim mé fa dheighin dul na cóir,
'S air Eire ní innseóchainn cia shí.
Da n-geillfioch an spéir-bhean dam ghlór,
A siad ráidhte mo bhéil do bheidh'dh fíor;
Go deimhin duit do deunfainn do gnódh.
Do léir chuir a g-cóir 's a g-crích;
Do léighfinn go léir stair dam' stór,
'S ba mian liom a pógadh óm' chroidhe;
Do bhéarfainn an craobh dí na dóid,
'S air Éire ní innseóchainn cia shí.
Tá spéirbhruingiol maordha módh'mhuil óg,
Air an taobh eile do 'n teora 'na m-bim,
Tá féile gus daonacht 's meón.
'S deise ro-mhór ann sa mnaoi:
Tá folta léi ag tuitim go feór;
go cocánach, ómbrach, buidhe;
Tá lasa iona leacuin mar rós,
'S air Éire ní innseóchainn cia shí.
A shair-fhir bí páirteach liom fhéin,
'S mé airiomh dá m-féidir liom sgríobh'
Bheidhinn grádhmhar le bán-chnis na g-craobh
Da bh-faghainn áirigthe ó aoinne cia shí:
Táir cáinte 's ní cás orm é,
Gur le dánacht do théighim leat da suigh-
[eamh,
Ní fuláir go bh-fuil cáimh air a sgéimh,
Go bh-fuil náir' ort léigheamh dúinn cia shí
A Bhrúnaigh, fhir clúmhail gan chaim,
Níor bh' iongna liom stráile d' an tír,
No rúisg do bheith tabharta do mhnáibh,
Go m-beith fonn air a g-cáil do rith síos;
Seach ughdar do shiubhaladh a lán'
Ó 'n Siuir go d-tí 'n sáile cois laoi,
Teacht chugam-sa ag faghail cuntais am
[babh.
'S air Éire ní thráchtfainn cia shí.
For Ireland I'd Tell Not Her Name.
One eve as I happened to stray
By the lands that are bordering on mine,
A maiden came full on my way
Who left me in anguish to pine ;
The slave of the charms and the mein,
And the silver ton'd voice of the dame,
To meet her I sped o’er the green,
Yet for Ireland I'd tell not her name.
Would she list to my love laden voice,
How sooth were my vows to the fair;
Would she make me for ever her choice,
Her wealth would increase by my care.
I'd read her our poets sweet lays,
Press close to my wild heart the dame,
Devote to her beauty the lays,
Yet for Ireland I'd tell not her name.
A maiden young, tender, refined,
On the lands that are bordering on mine,
Hath virtues and graces of mind,
And features surpassingly fine ;
Blent amber and yellow compose
The ringleted hair of the dame;
Her cheek hath the bloom of the rose,
Yet for Ireland l’d tell not her name.
Sweet poet incline to my prayer,
For O! could my melodies flow,
I'd sing of your ringleted fair,
If haply her name I could know ;
You are censured permit me to say,
Nor grieve If you suffer the blame,
Some blot doth her beauty display,
When for Ireland you'd tell not her name.
O' Browne of the pure spotless fame,
I never would marvel to see,
A clown thus consigning to blame
Those charms that so beautiful be ;
But you that have roamed by the Sea,
And the scenes of the Suir did proclaim,
Why ask you my secret from me ?
When for Ireland I'd tell not her name.
Muslc — Petrie's A.I.M.
No. 1237
