170
AN GAODHAL.
SEÁGHAN DO h-ORRDA Ro Chan,
Ag moladh Séarlas MacDomhnaill
Cille-chaoi
Glastar sin coisir do Shir Eadbhard
Druimeoland,
'S do Bhurton bhreágh órda na lásuidhe,
Na h-Icmans is dóigh liom gur cuideac-
ta cóir iad,
Ma thigid ag ól linn geabhaid fáilte.
Ó' n laoch óg na leabhar úd dá ngair
thear MacDomhnaill,
Tá ag feithiomh ar spórt d' fhághail a d-
tráthuigheacht,
San fiadh so tá 'gabhail dúinn ag mille
ar g-cuid órnan,
Is thug sé uainn mór thoradh 'n gháirdín
Cia chidhfeach 'n leabhar-ghas go meidhreach
ar sheang each,
Do shíolradh a náll chughainn tar sáile,
Is fiadh mór na m-beann ann ó iachtar
na ngleannta,
Air thaobh cnoic is é a feall-ruith an
faghail grinn.
Na saoithe a d-teannta aige saoighthe a
g-clampa,
Seacht míle na dhiaigh ann sna fásaibh,
'S go g-cuirfinn mo gheall ar an righ-
mharcach sanntach,
'San g-coimhlíon go ndallfad an dá
chrioch.
Mo chara-sa an t-úrghas tair fearaibh
na coige,
Ba ceannasach cabharthach de 'n láin-righ-
ioghacht,
Tá maiseamhuil múinnte, lannamhuil,
luithmhear,
MacDomhnaill, an t-óg-fhear, 's áil gnaoi.
Ar bhinse na cúirte 'nuair shuidhean sé
faoi phúdar,
Bion gall'-choin a comhrádh le sgaith roimhe,
Go mairidh do'n chlú úd barradh na Mú-
mhan do,
'S go g-casadh ó Lunndain chughainn slán
bhrioghach.
A shliocht Fheidhlim, mhic Sheoirse, eirge
le Ioseph,
Agus adhntar libh mar theinte chnámh síos.
Go bh-fádham ar na bordaibh gan mhoill,
ar an moimeud,
Neart fíon agus beorach ó'n Spáin aird.
Biadhmaoidne go mórach go h-aoibhinn
caoin ceolmhar,
Le meidhir agus mór-shult gan dáirde,
Suidheam síos agus ólam sláinte Mic-
Domhnaill,
Chill-chaoi na seodaibh ó'n d-tráigh mhin.
JOHN HORE SANG,
IN PRAISE OF CHARLES MAC DONNELL!
ESQ. OF KILKEE.
A banquet prepare for Sir Edward of Dromoland,
And for Burton the bright of the golden laces,
The Hickmans I deem suitable companions,
In the drink if they join they'll be greeted.
By the young polished hero, namely, MacDonnell,
To enjoy timely sport that is waiting,
To chase off this deer that is teasing us and spoil-
ing our barley,
And has taken from us the rich produce of our
garden.
Mounted on a slender steed, who would have seen
this polished scion,
Who descended to and came to us from beyond
the sea,
And the big horned deer, from the bottom of the
glens,
O'er the hill and hedge side retreating.
The rest of the noble are by him bound in strife,
In the wilds, seven miles to his rear,
A wager I'd hold, that the bounteous royal rider,
In the chase would exceed (the nobles of) both
counties.
My friend beyond the men of the province is the
noble youth,
Who was brave and bountiful to the Kingdom a
round
His beautiful, courtly, agile, and perfect,
MacDonnell is the young chief of most excellent
state;
On the bench in the court, when he sits with pow-
dered hair,
The English hounds in discourse are timid beside,
him,
May the fame of him live, that gave him Munster's
sway,
And from London may he return to us both healthy
and strong.
Arise with Joseph, ye descendents of Feilim and
George,
And make down great bonfires,
'Till we get on the table, without a moments delay
Abundance of wine and high Spanish beer.
Who shall be in state, delightful, sweet, and melo-
dious,
In merriment and great cheer without delay,
Will sit down and drink to the health of McDonell,
Of Kilkee, of the jewels of the smooth strand.
He was at different times member of Parliament
for the Country of Clare, and also subsequently
for the Borough of Ennis, he was probably in
London attending his Parliamentary duties at
this time.
Respectfully,
Cornelius D. Geran.
