As Gaeilge

Ag so duanaire Fhiachaidh Mhic Aodha

Aonghus Mac Doighrí Í Dhálaigh

Dia libh a laochruidh Gaoidhiol!

ná cluintior claoiteacht oraibh;

riamh níor thuilliobhair masla

a n-am catha iná cogaidh

Déntar libh coinghleic calma,

a bhuidhion armghlan fhaoiltioch,

fá cheann bhar bhfearuinn dúthchais,

puirt úrghoirt innsi Gaoidhiol

Madh áil libh agra Éirionn,

a ghasruidh céimionn gcródha,

ná seachnuidh écht ná iorghail

ná catha mionca móra,

Fearr bheith a mbarraibh fuairbheann

a bhfeitheamh shuainghearr ghrinnmhear,

ag seilg troda ar fhéin eachtrann

‘gá bhfuil fearann bhar sinnsear

Mó as mall gur hagradh libh-si

Magh Life ná lios Teamhra,

ná Caisiol na sreabh nuaghlan,

ná míonchlár Cruachna Meadhbha,

Is díoth cuimhne, a chlann Míleadh,

fonn réidh na ríghlios ndaithgheal,

tug oirbh gan agra Tailtean,

ná táth críoch maighrioch Maisdean.

Ní tacha lúidh ná lámhaigh

tug oruibh, ágbhaidh Banbha,

beith díbh urramach umhal

do mhearshluagh gusmhar ghallda

Acht nách deóin le Dia, a Éire,

sibh le chéile do chongnamh,

ní bheith bhar mbuadh a n-éinfheacht

ag sluagh críoch léidmheach Lonndan

Crádh liom eachtruinn dá bhfógra,

ríoghradh Fhódhla ‘s a n-oireacht,

‘s nách goirthior dhíobh ‘na ndúthcus

acht ceithearn chúthail choilleach.

Siad féin a ngleanntaibh garbha,

laoich Banbha, beag dá leatrom,

‘s fonn mín an Chláir-si Críomhthuin

ag feadhain fhíochmhar eachtronn

Gach rún fill dá bhfuil chuca,

buidhion fhial churadh gcogthach

‘s a liacht námha ar tí a ngona

do-bheir orm codladh corrach.

An tráth bheirid laoich Laighion,

cinn daighfhear Chláir na gCuradh,

buaidh eachtrann an Chraoi Cuinn-se,

bídh m’aigne suilbhir subhach.

Dubhach bhím-se uair eile,

mar bheirid buaidh na saoirfhear

na Goill-si tig tar tonnmhuir

do chomhloit gasradh Gaoidhiol

Líon gleóidh do laochraidh lannghuirm,

Gabhal Raghnuill, Dia a ndídean;

méd a nguaisi san ghleann-so

do chuir mo mheanma a míneart.

Dia leó ag luighe ‘s ag éirighe,

tréinfhir as treisi a ttacher;

Dia ‘na seasamh ‘s ‘na luighe

leó ‘s a ttráth curtha an chatha

……………………………………………………………………

From Fiach Mac Aodh’s Poem Book

by Aonghus Mac Doighrí Í Dhálaigh

God be with you Irish heroes!

let no weakness be attributed to you;

you never earned insult

in time of battle or war.

Contend stalwartly,

o joyous clean-armed band,

for the sake of your native land,

the green fields of the Gaelic isles.

If you support Ireland’s cause,

o brave bright-stepping youths,

avoid not brave deeds nor combat

nor great and frequent battles.

Better to be at the top of cold peaks

in wakeful waiting and keen fervour,

seeking a fight with the foreign force

that holds the land of your fathers.

It is slow indeed you have claimed

the Liffy Plain nor the fort of Tara,

nor Cashel of the fresh clean streams,

nor the fine expanse of Maeve’s Cruachan.

It is want of memory, children of Mil,

the smooth ground of the bright-coloured royal forts,

that caused you not to claim Tailtiu,

nor the region of the royal plain of Maisdean.

It’s not the lack of lead or weapons-skill

that made you, warriors of Ireland,

be submissive and respectful

to a lively pack of upstart English.

But that it is not God’s will, o Ireland,

to keep you all together.

as one you will not be defeated

by the bold throng of London’s land.

It pains me for foreigners to claim

the kingdom of Ireland and her territory,

and they known in their native place

as backwards timid kerns.

They themselves in rough valleys,

the heroes of Ireland, unoppressed,

and the gentle earth of Clár Críomhthuin

in the hands of a wild foreign band.

Every treacherous intention they have;

a generous troop of warlike champions

and so many enemies ready to harm them

give me fitful sleep.

When the warriors of Leinster,

some of the good men of Clár na gCuradh*,

defeat the foreigners of Cró Cuinn* (Ireland)

my mind will be cheerful and glad.

I am gloomy one more time,

for they defeat the noble men:

the outlanders who come as a tidal wave

to destroy the young warrior Gaels.

The fighting numbers of blue-bladed warriors,

Gabhal Raghnuill, God their protection;

their many dangers in this valley

has sapped the strength of my mind.

God be with them lying down and rising,

brave men who are strong in battle;

God in their standing and their lying

be with them, and when battle is joined.

 

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