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Maire 4-1 ghuidhir.

Intleacht na h-Eirea̸n, ná Gréige, 's na rómha,

Bíodh uile a n-éinfheacht, «' n-Kén-bheirtín rómhám-sa̸, GhlKcx^inn már fhéirín, tár An mhéid-sin de ná seódkibh, Máire o'n n-Cirne K's mé bheith 'g 'ʼn pógadh.

Is tuirseách, tínn, tréith-lKg me féin gách tráthnóna,

'Y Kir mKidin Kg éirzhidh, már d'éa̸g ukim mo nukdhchár,

Dá bh-fázháinn A nois tréudá, 's gách sa̸ídhbhreás d'ár

nósadh,

Hí zhlácfáinn 'n A déigh-sin Kén bheán le pósadh.

CAROLAN'S MONODY ON THE DEATH

OF HIS WIFE MARY MAC GUIRE.'

BY THOMAS FURLONG.

Were heaven to yield me in this chosen hour,
As an high gift ordain'd thro life to last,
All that our earth hath mark'd of mental power,
The concentrated genius of the past:

Were all the spells of Erin's minstrels mine,

Mine the long treasur'd stores of Greece and Rome

All, all with willing smile I would resign,

Might I but gain my Mary from the tomb.

My soul is sad-I bend beneath my woe,
Darkly each weary evening wears away;
Thro' the long night my tears in silence flow,

Nor hope, nor comfort cheers the coming day.

Fukir mé seal <' n-Eirinn go h-Kédhrách K's 30

rózhámhuil,

Az ól le zách tréán-fhea̸r, bhídh éifeáchtách, ceólmháp,

Fázbhadh 'na dhéigh-sin, leám féin mé go brónách,

A n-deireadh mo shKézháil, 's gán mo chéile bheith beadh

M' intlecht mháith, Kérách, ní fhéudáim á cúmhdách, M'intinn, 'na dhéigh-sin, is léur zo bh-fuil smúiteKch,

Zo deimhin 'd dhéigh-si, ní fhéudkim bheith súgách, 2 Mháire na céille, Ann san t-sáéghal bhídh zo clúiteach.

Wealth might not tempt-nor beauty move me now, Tho' one so favour'd sought my bride to beWitness, high heaven!-bear witness to my vowMy Mary! death shall find me true to thee.

How happy once! how joyous have I been,
When merry friends sat smiling at my side;
Now near my end-dark seems each festive scene-
With thee, my Mary, all their beauty died.

My wit hath past-my sprightly voice is gone,
My heart sinks deep in loneliness and gloom,—
Life hath no aftercharms to lead me on-

They wither with my Mary-in the tomb.

Achí so an chuáirt eásba̸dhách, do lázáidh mé th'réis

mo shiubhail !

Air uáigh mo charáid, 's me fálcádh na n-déár zo h‐úr ; Hí bh-fuair mé a̸zám mo tháithneamh, <'s rádháre mo

rhúl ;

Acht crukidh-leac dha̸ingeán, K's lea̸badh de'n g-cré

bhidh cúmháng.

Hí tréa̸n me a' labhairt, 's ní mheása̸im gur cúis náire,

1r cáidhean bhocht scoithte me, ó cháilleás mo chúl

báire,

Hi'l péin, ní'l peána̸id, ní’l zala̸ir chomh cru«dh, cráidhte,

le h-éáz ná g-cárad, nó seára̸dh, ná g-cómpánách.