a ṁáṫair a ċodlaḋ; aċt ní leigfeaḋ an eagla ḋi é sin do ḋéanaḋ, agus b’éigin do Ḋoṁnall suiḋe ar an teallaċ gur ḃris an lá ar maidin, ag déanaḋ cuideaċtan léiṫe. Ann-sain do ṫóg sí an leanaḃ ó’n sgiaṫ i n-a raiḃ sé ’n-a ċodlaḋ agus do ċuaiḋ sí síos ’san tseomra ċum í féin do ṡíneaḋ ar an leabain, mar níor ċodail sí neul ar feaḋ na hoiḋċe; aċt sul d’imṫiġ sí, duḃairt Doṁnall léiṫe, “Éist liom anois, má leigeann tú ort go ḃfuil an leanaḃ sin ann-so, nó má ḋeineann tú tráċt air le haon-duine go dtiuḃra mise cead duit, ní ḃeiḋ tú ro-ḃuiḋeaċ ḋiot féin. Ná corraiġ as so, agus taḃair aire ṁaiṫ do’n leanaḃ, agus má ċuireann aon-duine ceist ort, nó má iarrann aon-duine cia an ċiall naċ ḃfuil tú ag an tóraṁ, abair leo go ḃfuil slaġdán, nó sgoilteaċ ort, no rud icínt mar sin; aċt ar do ṡaoġal coiméad an leanaḃ.” Do laḃair sé go han-ṁeillteaċ agus do ġeall sí ḋo ná leigfeaḋ sí uirre aon rud i dtaoiḃ an leanaiḃ, mar do ḃí ’ḟios aici go maiṫ cia an sórt é ’nuair do beiḋeaḋ sé ar buile.
(Le ḃeiṫ ar leanaṁuin.)
TRANSLATION—(CONTINUED).
No sooner was this out of his mouth, than the child screamed out; and it is a wonder that the poor woman did not go into weakness (i.e. faint), she was so frightened. She herself began to scream then, and I tell you that there was music for a while between herself and the child.
“Daniel,” said she, “what have you there? O, vo, vo, what shall I do at all with you? I suppose you have a lioprachán or one of the ‘good people’ there. Take him out and don't touch him any more. Take him out and let him from you or there never will be any luck on you. My heart is broken with you, for there is not a spark of sense in your head.”
“Listen to me, mother,” says Daniel, “I have a child here, and I believe there is hunger and cold on the poor little creature. Rise up now and give him something to eat, and do not be deafening me about the ‘good people.’”
“A child aroo! Are you drunk or gone out of your mind? O God of grace! what is on him to-night? A child is it! ‘growing older, growing worse,’ as the old words say. Did you drink anything to-night, Daniel?”
“Not a drop wisha, but I’ll drink a naggin now presently, for it is wanting from me after this night surely. But hurry up now and take the child from me.”
But she did not believe that it was the child he had, and he spent half-an-hour coaxing and soothing with her, before she stirred out of the bed, the fear was so great on her before the ‘good people.’ But in the end she came down, and when she looked on the child, she turned on Daniel, “You thievish rogue! for what reason did you take this child from his mother to-night? It is a great shame for you. There is nothing giving you trouble but putting the neighbours in confusion; but it will come behind you some time, I tell you.”
Daniel told her then that he did not take the child from his mother, and he told her the story from beginning to end, and before it was finished she was giving thanks to God that Daniel was abroad that night; but at the same time she was not too satisfied in her mind about the fairy women, and she used to throw an eye out on the window now and again, seeing were they coming again for the child.
The old woman gave a drink to the child, and he went to sleep again. Daniel drank the naggin he laid out for himself, and he thought then that his mother would go to sleep, but the fear would not let her do that, and Daniel had to sit on the hearth till the day broke in the morning making company with her. Then she (the mother) took the child from the scuttle in which he was asleep, and she went down in the room to stretch herself on the bed, for she did not sleep a wink during the night; but before she went Daniel said to her: “Listen to me now; if you let on that that child is here, or if you make any talk about him with any person till I give you leave, you will not be too thankful to yourself. Do not stir out of this, and give good care to the child, and if any person puts a question on you, or if any person asks why you are not at the wake, say to them that there is a cold or rheumatism on you, or something like that; but on your life take care of the child.” He spoke very fiercely, and she promised him that she would not let on anything about the child, for she knew well what kind he was when he would be mad.
(To be continued).
NOTES.
Tomas O’H-Aoḋa
RICHARD BARRETT, THE BARD OF MAYO.
I.
The amusing poem given below is one of many of the same character composed by Barrett. As it may be succeeded by a few others of his making, a short account of the poet will not, perhaps, be without interest.
