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AN GAODHAL.
Congbhuigh iad gan sgartha
Air Pháirc an áir!
A Thíghearna!
Acht ma thagann eagla ortha
'San uair is troime gleo;
Na cúmhdaidh! leig do'n bhás theacht ortha
B'fhearr gan iad bheith beo!
A Thighearna!
Bania.
Ní 'l agam sógh, ní 'l agam síoth,
O thánaic sésean in mo chómhair;
is cuma athas in mo chroidhe,
No fós é dall le tuilltibh deor.
Acht liomsa fios go bh-fuil fíor-ghrádh
Do neach cho dhíl le anál Dé;
'San grádh gan seun, tá fíor go bhráth,
Ar saoghal, go lom, ní fhágfaidh sé.
Is minic d' fheuch mé soir 'san aer,
'Gus d' eagluigh mé caomh-bhán'adh lae;
Air maidin dhearc mé ceo 'san spéir,
Acht tháinic nóin a's d' imthigh sé.
Mar sin, is féidir bhrón dul uaim,
Meadhon-lae mo shaoighil bheith saor o
chrádh;
Gigh dubh a neulta, trom a gruaim ----
Tá croidhe grádhmhar, áluin, breágh.
That in might they prove them
On the battlefield,
Lord!
But should fear appall them
In the hour of strife!
Guard not! let the death befall them!
Worthless they of life.
Oh Lord!
Bania.
i know not peace, l know not rest,
Since I have felt his presence near;
Or if that joy obscure my breast,
Or only sorrow's blinding tear.
But well I know the heart that loves,
To life more dear than breath is born,
And love unblest that faithful proves,
Will leave not all of life forlorn
How oft l’ve gazed upon the East,
And feared the dawniug dim and gray
How oft l’ve seen that morning mist
Before the noontide fade away.
Ah! thus perchance my fears may fade
My mid-day life be void of care:
For howso deep in clouds array'd,
The heart that loves is fresh and fair.
ABHRÁN CHUM ÉIN.
Nessa.
Seinn! Seinn! a bhinn-ghuth an chroidhe,
Chum do chéile cuir d' abhráin is milse!
Seinn! Seinn! le glóire a choidh'e,
Béidh gach nóta dod' dheun'dh níos dílse!
Seinn! O! sé a beatha do ceol,
A beatha, 'sé solus do chómnuidhe.
Tá am síneadh;
Óige críonadh;
In a séasúr bidheann Grádh líonadh g-cómh-
(nuidhe.
Fós má tá 'g do chéile míshuim in do rann
Ná meas do shaothar bheith fann,
Acht seinn leat do cheola go fíor
Ó'n talamh bh-fuil Miana 'g cómhnuidhe,
Bidheann Grádh óg síneadh,
Bidheann Croidhe óg líonadh,
Mar rós, le sgeul dílseacht' a gcómh-
(nuidhe.
Tar chugam! tar cugham!
'Gus cómhnuidhe annso faoi sgáth!
Óir chugad, O chugad,
Song to a Bird.
Nessa.
Sing i Sing! sweet voice of the heart,
That thy mate in her bower may
hear thee!
Sing ! Sing! tho' dearest thou art,
Every note but will doubly endear
thee!
Sing! Oh! thy song is her life,
Those life is the light of thy dwelling
Time floweth,
Youth goeth,
In whose season Love glow'th at telling,
Yet if thy lady-love need not thy strain
Deem not thy quest is in vain.
But sing on with music's true art,
From the birthland of Passion upwel-
(Iing
Young Love floweth,
Young Heart groweth
Like the rose in the sun at love's tell-
(ing.
Come hither! Come hither!
Come rest in the greenwood tree,
For thither, O thither
