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Go mairfin a ndj415 Naoire,
Na ndjaig ni bu beo misi,
A fir a točlar an feartan,
A tori rgiata, ra cori pleaja,
A cori ccoin, r4 tori reabaic,
Tri hjalla na otri ccoin rin,
Ni rabas ariar um aonar,
Do cuajo mo radarc uaimti, Uir bfejcsin huaige a Naoise Ir geam go bfuigfe manam me, Ni mainjon mo lučo caointe.
Think not that I will survive my love. Ainli and Ardan, I desire not life when you are gone.
Life has no charms now for me. My days are already too many. Delight of my soul, a shower of tears shall fall upon your grave.
e men that dig their grave, prepare it wide and deep. I will rest on the bosom of my love. My sighs and groans
go with me to the tomb.
Often were the shields and spears their bed. Lay their strong swords by their heads in the grave.
Their dogs, their hawks,—who will attend them now? The hunters are no more on their hills; the valiant youths of Connal Cairni.
My heart groans to see the collars of their hounds; often did I feed them, but now I weep when they draw near.
Though many times we traversed the solitary waste, I knew no solitude, until the day that your grave was prepared.
My sight begins to fail, when I see thy grave, my Næsa. My life will soon depart, and the voice of my mourners be heard into the grave,
As she concluded her lamentations, she
sprung and, on the breast of Næsa, expired.
Thus ends one of the finest wrought tales, founded on original history, that is to be met with in any language. Should these short extracts excite attention, or awaken curiosity, the whole will soon be published ; and a succession of similar pieces, from ancient Irish manuscripts, will be prepared, with translations, to come forward from the unmerited oblivion in which they are now fast mouldering to decay.
The following literal translation of the poem, which is printed at the conclusion of Neilson's Grammar, with the critical notes, was supplied by a young friend, who has devoted himself with much praiseworthy ardour to the study of our national literature. The Editor, in professing to give the public a reprint of Dr. Neilson's work, did not feel himself authorized to make any alteration in it, but the following translation is absolutely necessary to enable the student to understand the original poem :
Dear to me that Eastern land, *
Dear is Dunfay and Dunfin,
Oh, Cullcuan !--oh Cullcuan!
* The article is here substituted in place of the possessive pronoun; for if the pronoun be used, the leading letter of tír should be eclipsed according to rule the 4th, page 88, and will: mean our country or land.
+ This line is evidently a corruption; for, as it stands at present, it is almost unintelligible. According to the edition of the Gaelic Society, in 1808, it is “gus ttigedo aindle, mo nuar, ir Whither, alas! Aindle would resort.”
Fish, venison, and prime of badeer (dalieukt eeting
Vale of Laith! oh, vale of Laith!
grassy harbour of Massan. Ayed A ChecomVale of Eithe! oh, vale of Eithe!
There was my first dwelling rais'd;
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* Translate soft coverlets instead of shady thickets, which wan ders a little too far from the text.
+ This is here translated, “Fair its paths,” which seems to agree better with her description of the vale of Massan than geal 4-garain, meaning " white its little stalks."
This is a beautiful simile, when understood, which is very difficult from the way it is written in Irish, for the literal meaning, according to the text, would be ridiculous; but if buaile, which signifies a resort, or any place of shelter, be substituted in place of bualad, the present participle of the verb buail, to strike, the meaning will be easily understood, and elegant; Deardra
compares the Vale of Eithe to a buaile, where the sun loved to linger from its rising till it set: This word, buaile, is used at present, for the place where catıle are driven for sheltr: and change of pasture.