Ta bród mor
orm saoi an
AN GAODHAL.
331
TRÍ INNS FIL.
Fonn — Aibhlín Crócar.
I
Trídh Innis fáil,
Aig rinceadh 'n dáil
Trá ghluais Grádh 'gus Gaisge,
'Gus sígh 'n ghrinn ghéir
Siubhal leo 'sa bh-feur
'Sceith gaethe ó n-a thaisge;
Air feadh na slíghe
Tig feur trí-ghlaoighe
Faoi dhrúchta dealra falcuighthe,
'Gus é cho glas
Le smáróg deas,
Trídh scáthán cristil calcuighthe.
An t-seamróg, tá glas síor-bhuan an t-
seamróg!
De dhuille óg sgaith,
Aig file 's flaith,
Fás Éire amháin an t-seamróg!
II
Aig Gaisge, aig rádh,
"'S dam tá faoi bhláth,
Na seoide maidne craobhamhuil',"
"Ní h-amhla tá,"
Do fhreagair Grádh,
"Le m' fhearan-s' an dil' aoibheamhuil."
Acht dhearc 'sa bh-feur
Trí dhlaoigh 'n t-sígh gheur,
'Gus gháir air feadh na spéire;
"Na sgoiltidh an bláth
Ta 'r thriúr mar scáth,
Grádh, Gaisge 's Greann na h-Éire!"
Ó an t-seamróg, tá glas, síor-bhuan, an
t-seamróg!
De dhuilleog sgaith,
Aig file 's flaith,
Fás Éire, amháin an t-seamróg!
III
Cho dílis fíor,
Bidheadh teann go síor
An chuing an lá úd 'cheangail,
'S air eite an ghaith,
Na tuiteadh dath,
An dombhlais no a shamhail!
Glanadh go h-eug,
An grádh dris bhreug,
Ó 'n ngort tá faoi 'n a mhaorsacht,
'S ná tóigeadh go deo,
A bhrat sa ngleo,
Gaisge 'n aghaidh na saorsacht' ;
Ó an t-seamróg, tá glas, síor-bhuan, an
t-seamróg!
De dhuilleog sgaith,
Aig file 's flaith,
Fas Éire, amháin an t-seamróg!
OH! THE SHAMROCK !
AIR — “Alley Croker."
Through Erin's Isle,
To sport awhile,
As Love and Valor wander'd,
With Wit, the sprite,
Whose quiver bright
A thousand arrows squander'd ;
Where’er they pass,
A triple grass
Shoots up with dew-drops streaming,
As softly green
As emerald seen
Thro' purest crystal gleaming.
Oh! the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock!
The chosen leaf
Of Bard and Chief,
Old Erin's native Shamrock !
Says Valor — “See,
They spring for me,
Those leafy gems of morning!”
Says Love “No, no,
For me they grow,
My fragrant path adorning."
But Wit perceives
The triple leaves,
And cries, “Oh ! do not sever
A type that blends
Three god-like friends,
Love, Valor, Wit, forever!”
Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock !
The chosen leaf
Of Bard and Chief,
Old Erin's native Shamrock!
So firmly fond
May last the bond
They wove that morn together;
And ne’er may fall
One drop of gall
On Wit's celestial feather !
May Love, as twine
His flowers divine,
Of thorny falsehood weed 'em !
May Valor ne'er
His standard rear
Against the cause of Freedom !
Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock !
The Chosen leaf
Of Bard and Chief,
Old Erin's native Shamrock !
