Sin is a lán naċ b-fuil 'san g-carda, An súd a bios an raċlais mór, Az luce ealaóna na tíre. V. Szolbard Francaċs fáż gan aṁrus, breac is bradán, ronnaċ, sgadán, Bíod go po maiż gléasta, Hi mór duit fionall, ím is peirsill, Bran is balláċ is cnúdán dearg Do congnam cum an feasta. Caipir torbard, flúc is sol, Go fíu an tortoise. Do réir mo zuigsin ni beiò air easbaió, Caifiom patruisgíde d' fáġail sa g-cur ar sceuers suas air clár, Coileac francaċ, biod siad santaċ An a dream sin, 'nuair a bíos siad gleusta, VII. Faz szata martuiġeaċt 's bíoò já leagad Deanpar reannaό το luat ταραιό, go Is maisbeocas szata caorać, An fiaig mór beannaċ", broc an gleanna. Uan is luán, gabar is mionán, Hi costas gaca b-fuiġe tú. bioò laoig maiż biadta gleasta air bórd, Topc móp neaṁar, is pigín óg, Miolbuide is coinín, cupla ricín, Do reir mo tuigse, is móide an ¿-einneaċ, lad a beiż bruiżte is róstċá. δίου Walter Coneys, who built the first house in Clifden, see p. 112, note . The "great doctor," it appears, was an itinerant quack. "Mister Stone," a wellknown "smuggler" of the name of Paddy Clogherty. Cloch a Stone. Gordon mor, or Gordon the great, a testy old pedagogue; Richard Martin, the late colonel of duelling celebrity; M. St. George of Headford; the Blakes and Brownes; and "Mistress Davis," a lady who used to boast that she was "a Cromwellian with a Williamite nose." bioò leat Mac Cártaiz, Tigearna an Chláir, O'Ruairc a níor ó'n m-Ŏpéifne, Sin 's O' h-eagra, Mac Suibne Fánaid, Is Clann Dhoncaió na Ceise. bíoò Strongbonians leat go leóp, An méid d' á g-cine nać g-cuipim an suime IX. Tiucfaió an iomad air an ccuiread Mór uaisle na tíre, Séarrún Cones a b-fuil a n-lomaió, Bháiter Cones croide gan ċeilg, 'S Séumar bhaba Frionnsa, An doctúr mór, is maiġistis Seon, 'Sa muintir leis tap timcioll. Gluais air Fairge Mister Stone, X. Cúpla ráim a bi 'san láżair, Aip ap mian liom tráċtad air aon rioċt, Risteard Mairtín, St. George, Mansesġ, Brúnaig, Blácaig Fhurbaiċ álainn, Agus uaisle breag na h-Eireann, Bháiter óg na dearmaid fós, Dar liom níor cóir a żréigionn. Bíoò gaċ duine map ċuaió sé a g-céim, Flata is fleargaid ealadna, Te h-agaió aiste a deunaṁ. XI. Nać móp an dearmad rinne an fear Do cuaid ag cruinniúġad an féasta, hugo, Maria, Hóra ni Fhażartaij, Siobán is maiġistreas Daibis. Cinndriu, Ruaidríġe, briġid ní Bhruadais, Brígid is Tomás, muintir Zideáin, Is Steapán ceann an méid sin. buo é sud fein an gliomaċ cóir, The ironical song or mock-elegy which follows, is an old favorite in Iar-Connaught. It has been attributed to Mac Sweeny, but improperly, for it is now ascertained to be the production of a cotemporary bard of perhaps superior powers, the late Richard Barret, a native of Erris in Mayo; and every Irish reader will, we think, be gratified at finding it preserved here. It is entitled Eóghan cóir, which may be paraphrased Owen, the honest and humane. This hero is still remembered as one of the most rapacious "land-agents" of his time. For poignancy of wit, and felicity of expression, these few stanzas have seldom been excelled. Mr. Knight, in his Account of Erris, Dublin, 1836, 8vo. describes Barret as "a man of real genius, though entirely unknown to the world. His humorous compositions, in Irish, were exceedingly pleasant, generally ironically satirical; he extravagantly praised those for qualities of which they had the opposites."-p. 121. The following is one of the latter description: "Eóghan cóir. "Hac é so an sgéal deacrać 'san tír-si, A n-anacair croíbe agus bróin, O fagbus sé Creagán an líne Go d-teid sé go d-tí an Fál món. O caillead, faraoir! Eóżan cóir. |