AN GAODHAL
637
'Siad so clann ár g-comharsan, na sag¬
airt óga.
An teanga úd do labhaír an mhuintir a
thóig iad.
A n-aithir 'sa máthair 'sa sinsir rómpa,
An teanga úd bo dhual dóibh agus bo
dhuthchus,
Ag meath le fada le neart spaideamh¬
lacht.
Is maith liom sibh go léir beith go seabh¬
rach,
Gan tinnios air bith orraibh ná treabh¬
lúid,
Ná máighistrídhe tacar air domhan or¬
ruibh,
Agus áitreabh shaor gach am 'guibh.
Is fusa duit réighteach leis na puncháin,
Ná bheith ag plé le talamh, cíos 's cáin,
A's gan leath a luach air bhanamh ná
cráin.
'Sis deacair go deimhin an cíos dh'fhágh¬
ailt.
Do Chara,
TOMÁS RUADH.
TOMÁS RUADH bemoans the fact
that the Irish Catechism is no longer
taught in the chapels, and gives the
young priests who neglect to do some¬
thing to try to preserve the speech of
their fathers and of their country a
keen rebuke. People wonder why the
Irish preserved their religion and per¬
mitted their language to fall into de¬
cay. The cause is obvious. The rel¬
igion was preserved because it was pro¬
tected by the most powerful and the
best discipined organization in the
world — The Catholic Church.
Had the language such an organi¬
zation at its back it would be protect¬
ed too.
Éilge, an ancient name of Ireland.
The following quaint old melody, one of Caro¬
lan’s baccanalian songs, I copied from the sing¬
ing of Mr. James M'Hugh, New York City. It
was the first time I heard any thing but the re¬
frain song, I send it as I heard it. The air is a
very old one, and one of that great Carolan's
best. Lovers of Irish music hearing an old coun¬
tryman play will always ask: "Do you play Car¬
olan's Receipt?” If you or any of the readers
of the Gael ever came to Scranton you will hear
it played by
Yours for Ireland and her language,
M. J. LOVERN.
CAROLAN'S RECEIPTS.
(Sent by Prof. LOVERN, Scranton, Pa)
Tinn agus ní slán a tharlaidh mé,
Ghluais mé trá, agus b'airde mo sgeul,
Air cuairt ag Seághan chum sócúil d'fhágh¬
[ail,
Mar is tabharnóir breágh, sáimh é
Air gnáthach a bheith gan ceól;
A bheith seal air mire, seal air buile,
Reuba teud 's dul le mire.
An faision úide cleachtamar,
Ní sgarfmuid go deó,
Ach innseam díbh é,
Agus airisibh go d-ti an saoghal é;
Más maith libh a bheith saoghalach,
Acht beidheach muid aig ól.
Dá d-tiochfach an meadhon oidhche,
Beidheadh sinn aig ól,
Agus air maidin airist an cordial,
Sé bhás mé ó céil, go m-b'é sin an gleus
Leis an g-Carolán Caoch a beóchán,
A bheith seal air mire, &c.
'Sí Nansaigh an planda a g-cantain go
leór,
Agus nach aoibhinn go 'n bhaintreach a
leanan sí dó,
Ní'l duke no oighre a bh-Flanders nach
bh-fuil a triall go Glinders,
Mar súil go bh-fághach faill cainte
Le planda 'n chúil óir.
A bheith seal air mire, &c.
Sí is ciallmhaire 'gus 's ceannsa,
Neamh-stamrach gan bhrón,
Ci go rinneann sí go leór go'n chórdial,
Agus fíon dearg donn,
Genébha agus rum agus farsaineacht go
leann breágh Mairte,
A bheith seal, &c.
Is mín a mala, is geal a leacadh,
Gruaigh faoi lasadh mar 'a rósa,
Cígh co-cruinn, mar cailcadh nár feuch¬
adh go fóill,
Faoi aitís agus pléisiúr tá 'n domhan
Vide
Hardiman
Vol. I. p. 22.
