The Irish standard., 1906-03-03
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WITH THE POETS
Lament for the Celtic Tongue.

| half century ago, set forth clearly the
| sentiments which find expression in the
/ Gaelic revival of our own day. So mucf,
so that we feel warranted in giving
| them at length here. though they are
| found in more than one collection of
Irish poetry. including that of Father
Crowley. Fragments have been oc-
casionally used by American papers
without the authors name, but the
lesson of the whole fails of recognition
in such. The closing stanzas are a
| strong appeal to which the formation
! Of the League is Il fitting response. The
| writer, Father Mullin, was connected
| with the Young Ireland national move
ment. but died in Chicago in 1869 while
yet young man.
'Tis fading, oh. It's fading. like the
leaves upon the trees!
In murmuring tone tits dying, like the
wall upon the breeze!
lis swiftly disappearing. as footprints
on the shore.
| Where the Barrow and the Erne, and
Loeb Swilley's waters roar
Where the parting sunbenms kisses
Loeb Corrib in the West,
And Ocean, like a mother, clasps the
Shannon to her breast!
| tory and name
OF her monarc!ls and her heroes-her
| glory ana her fame
The sacred shrine where rested thro
| sunshine and thro' gloom,
The spirit of her martyrs as their
| bodies in the tomb;
nur'd, mid centuries of wrong,
The secret voice Of Freedom, in ANIMAL
and in song
Is slowly. surely sinking into silent
| death ct last,
TO live but in the memories of those
who love the Past.
The olden tongue is sinking like q
patriarch to rest.
Whose youth behold the Tyrian on GU,
| Irish coasts Il guest:
Ere the Roman or the Saxon. the Nor.
man or the Dane.
Hal first set foot in Britain. ole,
| trampled heaps of slain:
Whose manhood saw the Druid rite a,
| forest tree and rock
And savage tribes of Britain round the
| shrines IF Zernebock;
And for generations witnessed all tho
slories of the Gael,
Since our Celtic sires war songs round
| the sacred fire of Baal.
The tongues that saw it's infancy arc
| ranked among the dead,
And from their graves have risen those
now spoken in their stead.
The glories of old Erin with her liberty
have gone,
Yet their halo lingcr'd round her while
the Gaelic speech lived on:
For mid the desert OF her woe. a
monument more vast
Than all her pillar-towers, it stood
| that old Tongue of the Past!
IT'S leaving. and forever. the soil that
gave it birth,
Soo,l-very soon. its moving tones shall
ne'cr be heard on earth.
Der the island di1nly fading. as IL circle
DER the wave
Rcceding. as it's people lisp the Ian
guage of the slave
And with it. too, seem fading. as sun
set into night.
The scattered rays Of liberty that
fingered in it's light.
For ah! tho long, with, tilial love. it
| chung to motherland.
And Irishmen were Irish still. in Ian
guagc, heart and hand;
~ install it's Saxon rival, prescribed
it soon became.
And Irisfmen are Irish now in nothing
but IN name;
The Saxon chain our rights and
tongues alike does hold in thrall,
Save where amid the Connaught' wilds
AMI hills of Donegal
And by the shores of Munster, like the
| broad Atlantic blast,
The olden language fingers vet and
/ binds US to the Past.
Thro' cold neglect tits dying now; a
| stranger on our shore!
N" Tara's hall re-cchoes to it's music
as of 'yore>-
No lawrence fires our Celtic clans
| round leaguered Athaclee-
No Shannon watts from Limerick's
towers their war songs to the sea.
All! magic Tongue. that round us wove
its spell so soft and dear!
All! pleasant Tongue, whose lnurmurs
| were as music to the ear!
All! glorious Tongue, whose accents
could each Celtic heart enthrall!
All! rushing Tongue, that sounded like
the swollen torrents fall!
The Tongue. that in the Senate was
| lightning flashing bright
Whose echo in the battle was the
thunder in its might!
That Tongue. which once in chieftains
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