﻿308
AN GAODHAL.
To lead the wretch from shades of vice to virtue's
path of light.
Oh, on the sinner's hraden'd heart it falls as dew
from Heaven,
The softened soul dissolves in tears — he weeps,
and is forgiven.
Thus lurks amid the simple poor, forgotten and
unknown,
That ancient tongue, that royal tongue, so prized
in ages flown,
Which came to make our isle its home from lands
'neath orient skies,
Which saw the wondrous pillar-shrines in grace¬
ful grandeur rise —
Which echoed in its days of pride within Emania's
walls,
Through high Kincora’s princely courts, through
Tara's regal halls,
Which swelled in holy songs to Heaven upon the
morning air —
When from the Sacred Groves went up the Druid's
voice in prayer.
And oft, in brighter Christian days, it rose in
holier strain
From Glendolough's calm Eden shades, from In¬
nisfallen's fame.
It breathed iu vesper orison, when evening's shad¬
ows fell,
From city shrines, from abbey piles, from hermit's
lonely cell,
It sped in winged accents forth, from dawn to
day's last smile,
From lips of sages, saints, and kings, throughout
our sacred Isle.
Ere Grecian fame, ere Latin name, from infant
state had sprung,
In munhood's strength that language stood, the
mighty CELTIC TONGUE!
IV.
The Celtic Tongue ! — then must it die? Say, shall
our language go!
No! by Ulfadha's kingly soul ! by sainted Laur¬
ence, no !
No! by the shades of saints and chiefs, of holy
name and high,
Whose deeds, as they have lived with it, must die
when it shall die —
No! by the memories of the Past that round our
ruin twine —
No! by our evening hope of suns in coming day,
to shine.
It shall not go — it must not die — the language of
our sires ;
While Erin's glory glads our souls or freedom's
name inspires,
That lingering ray from stars gone down — oh, let
its light remain !
That last bright link with splendors flown — oh,
snap it not in twain !
Bourke's Easy Lessons p. 388.
Reprt. Vol. IX. page 203.
MÓIRÍN.
Aisling an Áthar Padruic Ui Bhuirn.
Tóigfidh se fadtuirse a's bhrón díb
Aisling do conarc-sa air Mhóirín;
Án bhanaltra bhreugach, thadail air gach
aon neach.
O d'imthigh a céile, — mo bhrón í!
Á cneas mar an sneachta, ba ró-mhín
Á bas fa n-a leaca 's sí a' deoraoil;
'S a mama breagh, glégeala, ag con¬
airt an Bheurla,
D'a slama gan traocha gan comhnuighe
'Sé dubhairt an mac-alla do'n ghlór
caoin,
Án bh-fuil tú ad chodladh, a Mhóirín?
Eirghe cois toinne, a's dearc air an
duine,
Ta teacht chugainn tar an tuille le
mór-mhuidhin.
Ánn sin beidh agad-sa ad' phóicín,
Áirgiod go fairsing a's ór buidhe,
Mar chabhair do na ceudta ta cnea¬
dadh 's a béiceadh,
D'a g-creachadh 's d'a g-ceusadh le
mór-chíos.
Taid eunlait na coille go ró-bhinn,
Á n-aoinfeacht ag seinm a nótaidhe;
Go meanmnach aorach ag innsin d'a
chéile,
Nach m-beidh fearg mic Dé linn a g-
cómhnuidhe.
Do chualadh d'a seinm air ceol-phíob
Go bh-fuil Coileach a's Fiolar air
deoruigheacht,
Do phiocfas na súile as an duine ná
'r dhúthchus
Bheith 'gainn a Longdún 'na chómhnuidhe
Beidh Hector a's Caeser, go beolbhinn
Bowler a's Ranger ag geonaoil;
Á's gearr-fhiadh aca air saothar ó
Chaisil go Béara,
Go d-tuitfidh i n-aonfhacht in órlaighe.
Ann sin go fírinneach pósfar
Án duine na'r saoileadh lé Móirín,
Á's crunneochaidh na ceudtha do mhai¬
thibh na h-Éireann
Go mullach Cnoc-gréine lé ceol sighe
Túgthar chugainn punch agus beoir
groidhe,
'S biotar d'a tharraing i g-cómhnuighe;
Cuir an aindeise air cairde go mai¬
