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AN GAODHAL.
Mr. O'Callaghan's Letter and Song.
A Shaoi.
Glacaim le lán bhuidheachais an cuir¬
eadh thug an Gaodhal do na scolairibh ó¬
ga, se sin, sgríobh do réir a d-tuigsint
is a d-tuairim féin. Tá dóchus láidir
agam gur a dul a bh-feabhas a bheidheas
siad ó am go h-am. Is mian liom beag¬
an a radh air Cheist na h-Éireann, gan
a dul níos sia siar na an bheanríoghan
laithireach. Ó 'n la cuireadh coróin air
a ceann ta feall d'a dheunadh is fuil d'
a dhórtadh in gach rann de'n dómhan a bh-
fuil cumhacht aici.
Is go mór mhór in Éirinn, tír
ar n-gradh, is féidir a rádh, & sin go
fírinneach, nár árduigh sí a guth i riamh
mar chómhara cosaint air na milliún ata
faoi na cúram. Is dóigh liom go d-tug¬
ann se sasamh mór di iad a scapadh is
a sgrios ó bhliadhain go bliadhain. Ní 'l
ach seal geárr ó bhí na príosúin líonta
le sagartaibh & le tírghrách, & le plúr na
mnaibh, gan cuir gan cúis ach amháin gradh
saoirseacht a d-tír féin.
Dubhairt Éamonn Abhúrca lá da raibh
se, da gcruinnóch na diabhail is malluigh¬
the a bh-fíor iachtair iofrainn is cómhair¬
le le na chéile, níor bh' fhéidir leo aon
dlígheamh a chur air bun níos measa ná
atá os cionn na n-Éireannaibh leis na
ceudtaibh bliadhan. 'Nuair a bhidhim-sé
insa n-uaigneas is gnathach liom, smuain¬
eadh air anachur is anshogh mo chairde dí¬
lis, cuirim mo ghuidh' chum Dé slainte mhaith
is saoghal fada a bhronnadh air Phárnell
is air na tréin fhir a tá congnamh leis.
Dubhras go minic, & deirim arís é, an
t-uachdarán no an u-íochdarán no ce b'
é duine thugas congnamh no cabhair do'n
acmie mhalluighthe. le briathar no le
gníomh, ní fiú a leithid sin do dhuine
uaimh fhághail tar éis a bháis i d-talamh
beannuighthe na h-Éireann.
Bhí an ghaoth in iar is an stoirm 'g eirighe
Is an long i boga air bhárrna d-tonn,
Is mo rún i luasca bh-fad ó na maimín,
A croidhe go buartha fágaint a cuan.
Mo mhíle slán leat, a chroidhe na páirte
Is dubhach an sgeul é, is me liom féin
In uaigneas ghleanna fa scail na g-cran
ghlas
Gan brígh in mo chnamha chum rith no léim
Slán go d-teigh tú ó thir de shinsear,
Ameasg do ghaoltaibh tá bh-fad ó bhrón,
Bi rinc 's ceol ann is punsh air bord an,
'S fáilte ,s fial romhat chum mo shlaint¬
e d'ól.
A Éibhlín mhín dheas. ma bheidheann tú
dílis,
Geallaim óm' chroidhe duit go m-beidhid-
se buan,
Do thug me gean duit tar mhnaibh na h-
Éireann,
Tá mo chroidhe d'a reubadh is mo chodla
gan súan!
GOD SAVE IRELAND.
Air — “Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are march¬
ing."
High upon the gallows tree
Stood the noble-hearted three,
By the vengeful tyrant stricken in their bloom,
But they met him face to face
With the courage of their race,
And they went with souls undaunted to their doom
"God save Ireland!” said the heroes;
"God save Ireland!” said they all;
“Whether on the scaffold high
“Or on the battlefield we die,
"Oh, what matter, when for Erin dear we fall!"
Girt around with cruel foes,
Still the spirit proudly rose,
For they thought of hearts that loved them far and
near;
Of the millions true and brave
O’er the ocean's swelling wave,
And the friends in Holy Ireland ever dear
"God save Ireland!” said they proudly
"God save Ireland!” said they all;
"Whether on the scaffold high,” &c.
Climbed they up the rugged stair,
Rung their voices out in prayer,
Then with England’s fatal cord around them cast
Close beneath the gallows tree,
Kissed liked brothers lovingly,
True to home and faith and freedom to the last.
"God save Ireland!” prayed they loudly,
“God save Ireland!” said they all:
"Whether on the scaffold high." &c.
