AN GAODHAL.
935
Ach 'nuair a bristear croidhe 'g a crádha,
But when is broken (a) heart at its misery
Aig foilsiughadh í bheith beo.
At revealing it to-be alive
* The relative pronoun a, his, is o¬
mitted and a comma inserted to indi¬
cate its absence
(The poetical translation).
The harp that once through Tara’s halls
The soul of music shed,
Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls
As if that soul were fled.
So sleeps the pride of former days,
So glory’s thrill is o'er,
And hearts that once beat high for praise
Now feel that pulse no more.
No more to chiefs and ladies bright
The harp of Tara swells;
The chord alone, that breaks at night,
Its tale of ruin tells.
Thus freedom now so seldom wakes,
The only throb she gives
Is when some heart, indignant, breaks,
To show that still she lives.
Let students get every word of these songs off by
heart as the doing so will enable them to remem¬
ber how to place the words in general conversa¬
tion, for it must be remembered that in translating
a language the sense and not the verbatim order
is to be observed.
NOTICE — Five or six Leaguers have not sent the
translation of last month's exercise. Sending the
translation is a condition of membership and he
who neglects to do so, therefore, forfeits his subs¬
cription. This is an iron rule and will be observed
as such. The mail may some times miscarry, but
a third offense severs membership - and if the off¬
ending member desire to change from a Leaguer
to an ordinary subscriber, he may do so on the
payment of the ordinary subscription.
The following pieces have been sent to us by
Mr. J. J. Lyons, of the Philadelphia Society, who
deserves great credit for his successful exertions
in hunting up and reproducing the Irish Language
as it is spoken to-day throughout Ireland. These
pieces show the purity of the language in its natu¬
ral form and fully maintain Father York's assert¬
ion that, “No native speaker can destroy his own
language." No, it is the foreign importation,
like every other noxious weed, when admitted,
that destroys it.
This poem is taken down from the dictation of
Mr. John Walsh, of Callan, co. Kilkenny.
SEÁGHAN 'S AN BÁS.
Air bhóthar Luimnigh a casadh an bás
liom,
An gadaidh grána 's a chúl le cloidhe;
Dhruid sé m' aice 's rug air láimh orm,
"Cianos a táir, a Sheághain boicht, no 'n
fada bhidhis?"
"Táim tinn, tuirseach, brúighte amo
chnámha
Leis na trí mhála so air aghaidh mo
chroidhe."
"Caith dhíot ann sin iad 's tar liom i
láithreach
Go gleannta áluinne 's deun t'aithrighe."
"Diúltughadh a thugaim duit, a ghadaidh
ghrána
'S na tar de mo láthair go ceann naoi
mí,
No go rachaidh mé abhaile aig an Athair
Mártan,
An fear is áille fa chreideamh Chríost."
"Na tig an t'eagna má bhidheann a n-
Éirinn,
Faoi rothaidhe na gréine na cré le fágh¬
ail,
Nach d-tiubhradh thusa liom, a Sheághain
bhoicht aoraigh,
Léig dhe do phlae liom 's gluais mar chách."
"Sé an áit a gheobhfas tú mé ann aice
an tabhrana,
Ameasg na sógh-fhear aig ól an dígh,
'S geallaim-se dhuit-se má gheobhaim an
t-sláinte
Gur fada ó 'n áit so ghabhfas Seághan
arís."
"Téigh aig an sagart a's deun do éist¬
eacht,
A's do aithrighe deun-sa le Righ na n-
grást';
Go d-téighir go Páthras ameasg na
naomh geal,
Diúltaigh de 'n t-saoghal so 's de na
mnáibh."
"De mhnáibh na Banaba go léir dá ndiúl¬
tógainn
Cia dheunfadh aon rud dam le linn mo
fhán?
Budh mhaith an taca iad san oidhche de mo
chúmhdach
No dúnadh mo shúile le linn mo bháis."
"Bheirim an t óg liom 's an cuman aosta
'Gus an fear is tréine d'a bh-fuil le
fághail,
i gcríth
shár-fhear
Is teachtaire
mise.
See Gaelic Journal
No. 145. Oct. 1902.
