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AS cre ta
gloyr, agh aalid ennym vie,
Ennym! ta myr y goll ta sheidey shaghey
Shoh moylley'n pobble, my she molley shen.
Son cre ta'n pobble, agh jiornage anreaghit,
Earroo neuchinjagh, ta son jannoo mooar
Jeh nheeghyn eddrym nagh vel toilchin scansh;
As coontey cadj3,n reddyn ta feeu arrym.
T'ad moylley as ta'd ooashlagh shen nagh nhione daue;
As shen ta'd gloyragh jlu, ta'd jlooldey mairagh
Cha soc eer quol, agh eer myr tadyr leedit ;
Fer er fer geiyrt, myr gtioiee trooid doarlish.
As cre'n cooilleen t'ayns soaigh vooar ny lheid ?
Dy veaghey er nyn ennal,-goo ny sleih!
Marvaanee lheaystagh, myr y gheay neuhiggyr !
Quoi echey ta resoon veagh blakey lurg oo ?
Lioroo dy ve lheamysit te moylley,
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AND what is
glory, but the radiance of a name,
A name! which, as a vapour, blows unheeded by ?
This is the people's praise, if praise it be.
For what is the people ? an entangled skein,
A fickle mob, who greatly prize
Things vain and worthless;
While they condemn what merits veneration.
They praise and they esteem the things they know not
And whom they praise to-day, they blame to-morrow;
They know not whom, but just as they are led;
One following another, as geese through a gap.
And what advantage is the esteem of such ?
To live upon their breath,-the people's praise!
Poor wavering mortals, as the wind inconstant !
Who is it has reason would be gaping after them ?*
Their blame is commendation.
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