AN GAODHAL.
135
Translation by Professor M. C. O'Shea, Boston, Mass., U. S. A.
THE PRAISE OF THE GAELIC.
Alas for him who speaks not his country's native speech,
Mine still I love as highest which linguists e'er can reach;
Far sweeter than the Latin and highfamed in early Greek,
And older, purer, grander than any man can speak.
Ours was a powerful nation in days long passed, indeed,
Blessed by a native clergy of the early Christian creed,
Who celebrated masses and the Gospel preached to all,
Till invaders caused disunion and a cruel sad downfall.
They slew and robbed and ruined till no school to us remained;
They burned our books, our language e'en they slandered and defamed,
They left us steeped in poverty and ignorance profound,
For when they bann'd our native tongue their speech we could not sound.
A poor bard now, I mourn a half-crown I had to pay,
As tax upon my dog that drove my stock at close of day,
That I loved, fed and cherished as a trusty friend, indeed,
More humane than the tyrants of my native land and creed.
But fate seems relenting, and fortune again may smile
On the cause and the banner and land of my native Isle ;
When hope is reviving the sunburst we may unfold
And shout on our hill-tops as did our grandsires of old.
Ere famine crushed Erin she nursed heroes bold and brave,
And poets whose songs for a long time pleasure oft gave ;
Red Eugene the bard sang the Shannon, the Bann and the Lee,
Not forgetting the beauties of whom quite enamoured was he.
His lyrics in Gaelic are famed the nation all o'er,
He praised Helen and Déirdre and others galore,
A master of song and of language he still is well known,
And his patriot views by his muse are pungently shown.
He loved free wild nature in strains full, rich and profound,
He sang of the chase, the hare, the fox and the hound,
The sun and bright spheres, the aerial planets on high,
And his beloved Éire, for which he would willingly die.
Though low my finances I am fond of my Gaelic tongue —
A lover of glasses and lasses since I've been young;
In spirit devoted to poetic odes in rhyme,
If you print this effusion to you, l'Il send more some time.
