AN GAODHAL
﻿669
GAEDHEAL ÉIREANN Chum GAEDHIL
ALBAN.
1
Mo lámh dhuit, a bhrathair is tréine,
Le fásgadh teann, teith, mar is cóir;
'Gus tabhair dham do lámh mar an g-ceud¬
[na,
Táid sgartha le fada go leór.
A bhrathair mo chroidhe, ní'l aon ádhbhar
Gan sinne in aondhachd bheith beó;
'Gus ólfamaoid sláinte go grádhmhar, —
"Clann Alban 'gus Éireann go deó"!
2
Gidh seasann siad coiscéim ó chéile,
Ceann-Tíre 1 'gus Aon-Druim 2 na n-
[gleann,
Fós, Eisean do chrútaigh an tuile,
Níor mhianaigh Sé sgaradh a g-clann.
Oir thug Sé dhúinn innt'nne 'gus croidhthe
Le spioraid a's tír-ghrádhacht lán;
'Gus níor órduigh Sé eadrainn a choidhche
Acht síothcháin 'gus ceannsacht amháin.
3
Chum sinne do dheunadh níos dílse,
Do chum Sé príomh-theanga dhúinn 'raon,
Le nótaibh tá ceud uair níos milse
'Ná céileabhar ceólmhar na n-eun.
An teanga a mhair in Ard-Macha,
Binn-theanga "Iona" na g-cléir,
Nuair las síad le fóghluim na sgatha
Do chúmdaigh na tíortha go léir.
4
Go minic in aimsiribh ársuigh,
In aoisibh 'nois eugtha go deó;
Le máirséal an phíoba 's na cláirsighe
Do shiúbhal ár n-díl-shinnsear chum gleo;
'Gus mairg do'n namhaid 'sa bheatha
Do sheas roimhe sathadh a lann
'Nuair d' éirigh, go fíochmhar, rosg-catha
Ó shliabh agus cnoc agus gleann!
5
Ba ghlóireach, ba bhuadhach na h-aoise,
Ba shona, ba h-aoibhinn ár sliocht
'Nuair ba Ghaedhilig ba theanga na d-taoi-
[seach,
'S ba Ghaedhilig ba theanga na m-bocht!
Acht thainic an mealltóir ba dhuibhe
Le Béarla 'gus sgeultaibh neimh-fhíor,
A's chuir sé pór millteach na nimhe
Do mharbh mo thír a's do thír!
Ceann-Tíre, Cantyre, Scotland.
Aon-Druim, Antrim, Ireland.
Translated from the Irish of
"PADRAIC."
BY MICHAEL CAVANAGH.
AN IRISH GAEL to a SCOTTISH GAEL.
1
My hand to you, brave hearted brother,
With grasp earnest, warm and strong ;
And give me your hand for another,
We're parted old friend, over-long.
Oh brother ! there's no cause, I'm thinking,
Why we disunited should live:
A loving health let us be drinking —
"THE OLD GAEL!” the toast that we give.
2
Though standing a step separated,
Cantyre, and green “Antrim of vales | "
Yet He who Moyle’s billows created,
Ne’er meant they should part brother-Gaels,
For he gave us mind, heart and spirit —
Imbued with the love of our race ;
And willed that we each should inherit,
Between us love, concord, and grace.
3
That closer we should be united,
He gave us the old Mother-tongue,
The music whose strains more delighted,
Than sweetest of song birds e'er sung.
'Twas cultured in “Armagh the splendid,”
'Twas chanted in “Hy-of-the-Dove!"
When they through the nations, extended
The light of our faith, lore and love.
4
Oh, oft in the old times we treasure, —
The ages departed for aye ;—
To war-pipes' and harps' thrilling measure,
Our fore-fathers marched to the fray;
Their foes stood with terror confounded,
When, facing their death-dealing spears,
The fierce "Eye of Battle" resounded,
From mountain and glen, in their ears.
5
How gloriously bless'd were those ages,
When our kindred-nations were young;
And chieftains, and clansmen, and sages,
To Gaelic, in unison clung !
Until came the Sassanach hell-hound,
With false tongue and subtle design,
He poisoned our hearts, and when spell-bound,
He murdered your nation and mine.
Mr. P. Hally of Memphis Tenn., writes en¬
couragingly of the Gaelic movement there.
