AN GAODHAL.
487
LINES written at Rome, in December, 1854, on
the occasion of the dogmatic promulgation of the
doctrine of the IMMACULATE CONCEPTION of the
BLESSED VIRGIN, by His GRACE JOHN MACHALE,
Archbishop of Tuam.
(The Gaelic original is in last month's issue)
I
A pilgrim from the sainted isle,
On which, amidst the darkest storm.
The "Ocean's Star" ne'er ceased to smile,
And guard its ancient faith from harm.
'Twould ill become no voice to raise,
To sound the sinless Virgin's praise.
II
Nor need our harp be here unstrung
On willows hanging, from sad fears
That, should it breathe our native tongue,
Its tones should melt us into tears.
On Tiber's banks no tongue is strange,
Rome's faith and tongue embrace earth's range.
III
Let's hail, through distant time, the star,
Whose feeble yet auspicious ray,
Announced our recent feast afar,
Like morning kindling into day;
Of which the heaven-taught seers of old,
Have in prophetic glimpses told.
IV
Let each one raise his choral voice,
Gushing from the heart's deep well.
And whilst in concord we rejoice,
Let that concord be the swell
Of mingling streams, that bear along
The precious faith of sacred song.
V
That sacred song, whose spring we trace.
Back to the dawning of the world,
When, ere the parents of our race
Were from their blissful Eden hurled
Th' Almighty Father cheer'd the gloom
Which sin cast o'er their future doom.
VI
From out the darkness of the shroud
Which veiled the World’s eternal birth
Came forth a voice that pierc'd the cloud,
Shadowing his descent on earth,
Of woman born, doom'd to tread
And crush the wily serpent's head.
VII
The bush that fixed the prophet's gaze,
When in Egypt Israel groan'd
Remained intact amid the blaze,
Nor its fierceness felt or own'd.
Bright types of her, whose spotless soul
Had never known the fiend's control.
VIII
The garden closed, the secret bowers,
Impervious all to mortal eye,
The fountain sealed, the lonely flower,
Of richest fragrance, fairest dye —
All but emblems, yet how faint!
Of her whom sin could never taint.
IX
Since th' Ephesian trumpets roll'd
God's mother's glories through each clime,
No bell from church's roof e'er toll'd,
To waft o'er earth a sweeter chime,
Than that to hear on this day given,
Lifting up the soul to heaven.
X
Hail thou, to whom God's angel bright
Brought down the tidings from the skies,
That, full of grace and heavenly light
Thou wert all lovely in his eyes!
Hail thou, of all God made, the best,
His virgin mother, ever bless'd.
XI
When in this darksome vale of tears,
Our weary pilgrim days are run,
When death's approach awakes our fears,
Do thou, sweet Virgin, with thy Son,
Plead and show forth thy gracious power
And light our passage at that hour.
THE GALEIC UNION.
The following is a copy of a letter received by
the Rev. M. A. Harrigan, O. P. from the secret-
of the Gaelic Union. We publish it in the interest
of the language and hope the readers of the Gael
will go to the rescue of the Gaelic Journal.
17 Carlisle St. S. C. R.
Dublin Sept. 12th. 1885.
Dear Sir:
We are always glad to receive subscriptions
to the Journal from America. As they show that
interest in the old language has not entirely van¬
ished from the Irish in that country. But the fact
is that neither in Ireland itself, nor in America is
there much interest felt in the preservation of our
native tongue. In Ireland the people have a des¬
perate struggle for very existence and this absorbs
all their thoughts, while in America the Irish there
have no enthusiasm for anything but politics.
They dont care about their old language. As the
Gaelic Union is deeply in debt to the printer for
want of subscribers to the Journal. I am in great
doubt whether we shall be able to continue beyond
No. 24.
This is much to be regretted. Iam afraid the I¬
rish Language is doomed all through the fault of
the Irish people themselves, for we cannot be sur¬
prised at the enmity of the English government to
it. The principle Irish scholars in this country are
members of the Council of the Gaelic Union and
all that energy, knowledge and disinterested pat¬
riotism could do has been done by them, but the
Irish people themselves are helplessly apathetic
on the subject. They may perhaps awake to their
irreparable loss when their beautiful language has
disappeared for ever.
The so called national press of Dublin is inimi¬
cal to the language and consequently to the Gaelic
Union, the only body really representing it.
I remain, dear Sir,
Yours truly,
R. O'Mulreinin,
Hon. Sec. G. Union.
[Mr. Mulrenin strikes the nail straight on the
head when he says that the Irish in America have
no enthusiasm for anything but politics, Yes, the
mighty dollar. If there was patronage connected
with the language movement half dozen halls in
the various wards throughout the cities of America
would not be sufficient to hold the applicants for
employment.
Gaels should Boycott every Irishman looking for
office who does not make some effort to preserve
the language. And this should be made so plian
that they could not ignore it.]
