7. Ro ḃuḋ mian dom’ anmain-si
riaċtain niṁe nél,
ro ḃuḋ mian dom’ anmain-si
tonna diana dér.
8. Ro ḃuḋ mian dom anmain-si
déirġe doṁain ċé,
ro ḃuḋ mian dom’ anmain-si
dicsin gnúise dé.
TRANSLATION.
1. It were my soul’s desire
To behold the face of God,
It were my soul’s desire
Eternally to live with Him.
2. It were my soul’s desire
Studiously to read little books,
It were my soul’s desire
To live under a clear rule.
3 It were my soul’s desire
To be cheerful towards all,
It were my soul’s desire
Triumphantly to rise after Doom.
4. It were my soul’s desire
. . . . the body after triumph,
It were my soul’s desire
Not to know cold Hell.
5. It were my soul’s desire
To dwell in the clear mansions of the King,
It were my soul’s desire
To glitter as the sun.
6. It were my soul’s desire
To be for ever in the company of the King,
It were my soul’s desire
(To listen to) many strains throughout the ages.
7. It were my soul’s desire
To reach Heaven of clouds,
It were my soul’s desire
(To shed) vehement waves of tears.
8. It were my soul’s desire
To forsake this world,
It were my soul’s desire
To behold the face of God.
I am indebted to Father O’Growney and to Professor
Mackinnon of Edinburgh, for copies of the above poem
from the two MSS., which I will call D and E
respectively. D has throughout: so ba mian dom
ṁeanmuin-si. Instead of déicsin it has d’faicsin. In V. 3 D has ré cinne re cáċ, E rehinche fri cáċ. In
V. 4 E is rather illegible, but seems to have noaem . .
for aomḋa. The line is obscure to me. V. 5 and 6 are
almost illegible in E. For ríġṫeċ D has riġṫiġe, but
this would make one syllable too much.
KUNO MEYER.
CONNAUGHT IRISH.
SGEUL AR AN DREOILÍN.
Ins an leaḃrán “Siamsa an Ġeiṁriḋ” tá cur síos ar an nós ar imir an dreóilín ar an iolra (= Iolar) agus ar an sionnaċ. Cuirfimid síos ann so mar ḃain sé sásaḋ do ḟear do ċaill a nead agus mar ḃagair sé ar an tailliúir ’nuair buḋ ṁian leis deifir do ċur ar a ċulaiḋ ḃainnse do ḋeanaṁ:—
Ḃí caréire ins an tsean-aimsir do ḃíoḋ a’ taḃairt lasta ó ṡiopaiḃ móra go dtí luċt siopa giorra. Mar buḋ ṁinic amuiġ ’san oiḋċe é, do ḃíoḋ airm ċosainte ar iomċar leis, ar ḟaitċios go gcasfaiḋe robá- laiḋe ḋó. A’ dul ó’n mbaile mór ḋó ar fud na tuaiṫe lá breáġ gréine, stad sé ar an mbóṫar a’ taḃairt sgíṫe dá ċapall. A’ breaṫnuġaḋ ṫar claiḋe ḋó, ċonnaic sé feur fada milis taoḃ ’stiġ. Cuaiḋ sé isteaċ go mbainfeaḋ sé gaḃáil ḟéir dá ċapall. Ṫarla go raiḃ nead ag dreoilín ann agus le linn bainte an ḟéir cailleaḋ an nead ar an dreóilín. D’ eitill an sean-dreóilín amaċ agus duḃairt, “Beiḋ mise suas leat faoi mo nead do ċailleaḋ.” “Cad do ṡorra ḋuit?” ars an cairéire. “Cia an nós a m-beiḋṫeá suas liomsa, a ruidín ṡuaraiġ? Cia an ḃeann tá agamsa ort?” “beiḋ ’ḟios agat ar ball,” ars an dreóilín, “óir ní’l braon fíona no brannda tá ’san gcairt agat naċ ndóirtfiḋ mise ar fud an ḃóṫair.” “Déan do ḋíċeall,” ars an cairéire. Amaċ leis an dreóilin agus d’eitill sé as ċoca an tsoiṫiġ i n-a raiḃ an brannda. Níor leis an gcaréire dob’ ḟail- liġe. Tarraing sé a ċlaiḋeaṁ ⁊ ṡaoil sé an dreoilín a ṁarḃaḋ, aċt cad ar ar ḃuail sé an buille aċt ar ċoca an ḃairile i n-a raiḃ an brannda. Ṫuit an soiṫeaċ anuas ar an mboṫar agus rinneaḋ píosaiḋe ḋe agus dóirteaḋ an brannda. Ċuir sin fearg án-ṁór ar an gcairéire boċt, óir ní raiḃ ’ḟios aige cia an leiṫsgéul do ḃéaraḋ dá
