The Flame Still Burns: The Unbroken Spirit of Gaelic Ireland

There is a fire that has never gone out.

Though winds have blown across our hills and empires have cast their shadows upon our land, the spirit of Gaelic Ireland remains—a living ember in the hearts of her sons and daughters. It is not a myth or memory. It is blood. It is breath. It is the pulse beneath the skin of the nation, ancient and eternal.

Ireland was never just a place. It was, and is, an idea—a sacred trust handed down through generations of warriors, poets, craftsmen, mothers, fathers, and the noble dead. The Gael did not simply inhabit this land—they became part of it. The mountains knew their footfall, the rivers carried their dreams, and the stones kept the secrets of their speech. The soul of Ireland was not forged in a parliament or a court—it was shaped in the rhythm of nature, in the cycles of life and death, and in the songs of heroes long remembered.

That spirit still lives.

The Irish man is not a stranger to hardship. Our ancestors faced starvation, persecution, and exile, yet they did not bow. They fought with bare hands if needed. They hid sacred texts beneath hedges. They carved their prayers
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PH Pearse Letters Awaiting Execution 2

Kilmainham Prison
Dublin
3rd May 1916

My Dearest Mother,

I have been hoping up to now that it would be possible for me to see you again, but it does not seem possible. Goodbye, dear, dear mother. Through you I say goodbye to Wow-Wow, M.B., Willie, Miss Byrne, Miceal, Cousin Maggie and everyone at St Enda’s. I hope and believe that Willie and the St Enda's boys will be safe.

I have written two papers about financial affairs and one about my books, which I want you to get. With them are a few poems which I want added to the poems of mine in MS in the large bookcase. You asked me to write a little poem which would seem to be said by you about me. I have written it, and one copy is at Arbour Hill Barracks with the other papers, and Father Aloysius is taking charge of another copy of it.

I have just received Holy Communion. I am happy except for the great grief of parting from you. This is the death I should have asked for if God had given me the choice of all deaths — to die a soldier’s death for Ireland and for freedom.

We have done right. People will say hard things of us now, but later on they w
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PH Pearse Letters Awaiting Execution I

Arbour Hill Barracks,
Dublin,
1st May 1916.

Dearest Mother,

You will, I know, have been longing to hear from me. I don't know how much you have heard since the last note I sent you from the G.P.O.

On Friday evening the post office was set on fire, and we had to abandon it. We dashed into Moore Street, and remained in the houses in Moore Street until Saturday afternoon. We then found that we were surrounded by troops, and that we had practically no food. We decided, in order to avoid further slaughter of the civil population and in the hope of saving the lives of our followers, to ask the General commanding the British forces to discuss terms. He replied that he would receive me only if I surrendered unconditionally, and this I did.

I was taken to the Headquarters of the British Command in Ireland, and there I wrote and signed an order to our men to lay down their arms. All this I did in accordance with the decision of the members of our Provisional Government who were with us in Moore Street. My own opinion was in favour of one more desperate sally before opening negotiations but I yielded to the majority, and I think now
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A marvellous description by Liam Bulfin

A marvellous description by Liam Bulfin in United Irishman ar 21 Aibreán 1906. Give us ten such men and English will be a second language in a generation!

“This is Pádraig Ó Dálaigh, General Secretary, a southerner. He can work 12 and 15 hours a day. He has a perfect constitution. With care he may live to eat square meals in the 21st century. He seems to have lived a long time already although his face is under the 30 limit. It is his brain that is old. His heart and all the rest of him are young ...

Under my personal observation he has repeatedly performed the following things simultaneously: written letters, spoken in Irish and English, checked branch reports, read press notices – and smiled ... When anyone with a grievance comes in and threatens to wreck the movement he is folded in the magic of the Secretary’s smile and his anger is put to sleep.

When any man of an enquiring mind comes to know if Irish can be written or to ask some monumentally idiotic question, he is not to be scalped. He is merely smiled upon ... If he is not found wanting he is taken in hand and the purifying waters of knowledge p
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Mionn

I n-ainm Dé,
Dar Críost a Aon-Ṁac,
Dar Muire a Ċaoṁ-Ṁáṫair,
Dar Pádraic Apstal Gaeḋeal,
Dar dílseaċt Ċuilm Ċille,
Dar clú ar gciniḋ,
Dar crú ar sinnsear,
Dar dúnṁarḃaḋ Aoḋa Ruaiḋ,
Dar bás truaiġṁéileaċ Aoḋa Uí Néill,
Dar oiḋeaḋ Eoġan Ruaiḋ,
Dar mian an tSáirséalaiġ le huċt a ḃáis,
Dar osna éagcoṁlainn an Ġearaltaiġ,
Dar créaċtaiḃ cróilinnteaċa Tone,
Dar fuil uasail Emmet,
Dar corpaiḃ an Ġorta,
Dar deoraiḃ deoraiḋe nGaeḋeal,
Do-ḃeirimíd na mionna do-ḃeireaḋ ar sinnsir
Go ḃfuasclóċaimíd do ġéiḃeann ar gciniḋ,
Nó go dtuitfimíd bonn le bonn. Ámén.

In the name of God,
By Christ His only Son,
By Mary His gentle Mother,
By Patrick the Apostle of the Irish,
By the loyalty of Colm Cille,
By the glory of our race,
By the blood of our ancestors,
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Collapse of the Terror

British Rule's Last Stages

What the Elections Meant

We have seen how in ancient Ireland the people were themselves the guardians of their land, doing all for themselves according to their own laws and customs, as interpreted by the Brehons, which gave them security, prosperity, and national greatness, and how this was upset by the English determination to blot out Irish ways, when came poverty, demoralisation and a false respect for English standards and habits.

The English power to do this rested on military occupation and on economic control. It had the added advantage of social influence operating upon a people weakened and demoralised by the state of dependence into which the English occupation had brought them.

Military resistance was attempted. Parliamentary strategy was tried. The attempts did not succeed. They failed because they did not go to the root of the question.

The real cure had to be started—that the people should recover belief in their own ways and ideas and put them into practice. Secret societies were formed and organised. The Land League came into existence. The Gaelic Lea
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The Parting of Goll From His Wife

When they are shut up by Fionn on a sea-girt rock, without chance of escape.

A Dialogue

(Goll speaks)
The end is come; upon this narrow rock
To-morrow I must die;
Wife of the ruddy cheeks and hair of flame,
Leave me to-night and fly.
Seek out the camp of Fionn and of his men
Upon the westward side;
Take there, in time to come, another mate.
Here I abide.

(Goll's wife replies)
Which way, O Goll, is my way, and thou perished?
Alas! few friends have I!
Small praise that woman hath whose lord is gone
And no protector nigh!
What man should I wed? I whom great Goll cherished
And made his wife?
Where in the East or West should one be sought
To mend my broken life?
Shall I take Oísin, son of Fionn the Wise?
Or Carroll of the blood-stained hand?
Shall I make Angus, son of Hugh, my prize?
Or swift-foot Corr, chief of the fighting-band?
I am as good as they; aye, good and better,
Daughter of Conall, Monarch of the West,
Fostered was I with Conn the Hundred-Fighter,
Best among
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The Great Lamentation of Deirdre for the Sons of Usna

"As to Deirdre, she was a year in the household of Conchobar, after the death of the Sons of Usna. And though it might be a little thing to raise her head or to bring a smile over her lip, never once did she do it through all that space of time.... She took not sufficiency of food or sleep, nor lifted her head from her knee. When people of amusement were sent to her, she would break out into lamentation:—

Splendid in your eyes may be the impetuous champions
Who resort to Emain after a foray;
More brilliant yet was the return
Of Usna's heroes to their home!

Noisi bearing pleasant mead of hazel-nuts;
I myself bathed him at the fire;
Ardan bore an ox or boar of goodly size,
Ainle, a load of faggots on his stately back.

Sweet though the excellent mead be found
Drunk by the son of Ness of mighty conflicts;
I have shared ere now, from a chase on the borders,
Abundant provender more delicious!

When for the cooking-hearth noble Noisi
Unbound the faggots on the forest hero-board,
More pleasant than honey was each food,
Better than all other t
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Coolock and the Union Jack

In recent days there's been an uproar over the appearance of the Irish tricolour, symbol and standard of the Republic, waving alongside the Union Jack during protest marches in Belfast. Outrage has been expressed in the halls of power from Dáíl Éireann to Stormount to Westminster. And in fairness it is quite a picture – not something you'd see every day.

But what do we really see when we look at this picture? Should we take it at face value or should we have a conversation about the cause and context of this undoubtedly historical event? Not a historical first mind you, Catholic and Protestant groups in the North have found common cause in opposition to mass immigration before, but it is certainly the most publicised of these cross-community engagements.

Neither was it unpredictable – as far back as the 1900s, James Connolly observed that Unionist and Republican working classes had more in common with one another than with the ruling class, and would someday unite in opposition to capitalist exploitation. He was, as usual, right, albeit at a slight remove – the benefits mass immigration brings to those who wish t
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