Monday, January 24, 2011

 

Study Every Word, My Child

An Duanaire 1600-1900: Poems of the Dispossessed, tr. Thomas Kinsella (Portlaoise: Dolmen Press, 1981; rpt. 1985), pp. 18 (Gaelic) and 19 (English):
Every morning, my young lad,
pray guidance from the Trinity.
  Wash well, and take your book
  in clean hands without a mark.

Study each line clearly, wisely,
get things often off by heart
  —a short lesson, a sharp mind.
  Study every word, my child.

Don't stare around at everyone.
Attend to your assigned work.
  Root it deeply in your head.
  Stay at it, though the fight is hard.

On ample learning's mighty ocean
be, my boy, a good sailor.
  Be a wise sage if you can
  answering out in front of all.

Take a copious draught each day
from wisdom's noble spring.
  It won't taste sour in your mouth.
  Knowledge is a hold on bliss.
The Gaelic, although it is unfortunately a mystery to me:
Ar maidin, a mhacaoimh óig,
iarr teagasc ar an dTríonóid,
  ionnail go cáidh, gabh go glan
  gan sal id láimh do leabhar.

Féach gach líne go glinn glic,
déan meabhraghadh go minic;
  ceacht bheag is meabhair ghéar ghlan;
  a leanaibh, féagh gach focal.

Bheith ag féachain cháich ná cleacht,
tabhairt t'aire dot éincheacht;
  taisigh í ó chúl do chinn,
  bí léi, gé cruaidh an choimhling.

Ar mhuir mhóir an léighinn láin
bí id loingseóir mhaith, a mhacáimh;
  bí, madh áil, it fháidh eagna
  i ndáil cháigh do choimhfhreagra.

Ibhidh gach laoi láindigh dhi,
tobar na heagna uaisle;
  ní badh searbh id bheol a blas;
  badh sealbh aoibhneasa an t-eolas.
Ozias Leduc, The Young Student



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