AN GAODHAL.
467
seal od ghaodhalta,
Fuar réim racht is geile le treine is
treoir.
Nach doilbh dúinn an treadso ad dhighion
do bhur g-creim,
Do theilg siud air fad gan bhridh bhur
laochra 's bhur leoghin;
Sin phreibh stuic milesius athearnaig thar
lear don chrioch,
Más mein leatsa air dreadaibh ad teil¬
iobh na ad gobhail.
Is fada me ghan ceile dhom eiliomh don
phor ceart,
Ach srata lag mo laochrail an Ealga
gan treoir;
Mo charaid thapha angeibhion faoi gheur
smacht aig mór phuic,
Do thraoch sinn le chéile ghan réimibh na
seóid.
Aithris dúinn, a shearc mo chroidhe, an
aoine thú dom charid Gaodhil,
Le iomad trúp is flaithibh graoidhe ta 'm
eiliobh no am ghobhail;
No Gaodhal Glas do leig sibh faoi reim-
acht is bailtiobh riogh,
Dom shaorasa ó dhaor bhruid na meirlig
ghan meon.
Is me do shearc is dluith chnis aspiunag
od réim ceart,
Aruagach as do dhúntaibh an stiurdach
le feon,
A gluais faoi ghradam cughadsa, a rúin
ghil, ad teiliobh.
Le laochra gan staona fuair géile agus
teoir.
Ni staidfiog aon dom rexiobh grinn go
d-treasgariod meirlig,
Is ghan Brunswicker claon do gearach
Criost is seunach a phor ;
Pleasgaig le chéile iad le faobhar freas
a is geara claoibh,
Is bean cleir ceart aig Gaedhlibh in Éir¬
inn gho deó.
(The above, sent by Mr. Donovan, Be¬
rea, has been printed as sent.]
Send Sixty Cents for the Gael.
AITHREODHUIGH AN TEANGA.
Aithbheodhuigh teanga Éireann;
Ní'l tír-ghrádh no onóir
Ag an te nach ngrádhuigheann
A theanga mar is cóir.
Aithbheodhuigh abhráinn Éireann,
Mar bhí 'san am a g-céin,
Ag brostughadh smigeadh 's deora
Lucht cluinste 'gus file féin.
Árduigh glas-bhrat Éireann
Le h-ull-neart na ghaoth,
Do líonadh le h-eagla 's uathbhás
Anam an t-Sasanuigh.
Athnuadhuigh teanga an phobail!
Meuduigh cáil Éireann 'sa seun!
Claochluigh breuga an namhaid!
Aithbheodhuigh sean Éire féin!
REVIVE THE TONGUE
Revive the tongue of Erin;
No patriot he who shuns
The olden speech so dear in
The hearts of her true sons.
Awake the songs of Erin
That in the time gone by
Have changed to smiles the tear in
Hearers' and singer's eye.
Lift up the flag of Erin,
And let it wide unroll,
To waken dread and fear in
The Saxon’s hateful soul.
Revive her speech! her story,
So falsified, make true !
Renew her banner's glory !
And raise old Erin too!
NÍ 'L AN t-SAOIRSE MARBH!
Suggested as an additional stanza to Moore's
"Harp of Tara,“ in view of the awakening of the
true spirit of Irish nationality in the effort to pre¬
serve and extend the Gaelic language, and in view
also of the evident rapid decay of British power.
Is beo í g-croidhthibh ag brise, faon',
'Sa g-croidhth' ní bhrisfear 'choidhch';
'Gus stróicfid uaithe 'cuing 'sa leun
