GEAY AS KAY
"Jean raad dooin," as yn Gheay Hwoaie, as eshyn sheidey harrish y cheayn er obbyr ennagh shenn Gheuree.
As honnick eh roish y kay lheeah toshtagh ny lhie rish ny tideyn.
"Jean raad dooin," as yn Gheay Hwoaie, "y chay neufondagh, son mish ben-toshee Gheuree 'syn çhenn chaggey noi ny lhongyn. Ta mee cur ad bun-ry-skyn er niart tuittymagh, ny ceau orroo ny binn rioee marrey foawragh. Ta mee getlagh harrish faarkey mooar tra t'ou uss snaue meeiley. Ta keayney ayns buill çheerey erreish dou çheet quaiyl ny lhonyn. Ta mee geiyr ad er ny claghyn myr bee da'n cheayn. Raad erbee ta mee çheet rish, t'ad croymmey da'n Çhiarn Gheurree."
As cha dreggyr y kay fockle erbee noi y voggys sonnaasagh shen. Agh dirree eh dy moal, as skyrrey jeh'n cheayn; ren eh snaue seose glioonyn liauyr as feddyn kemmyrk ayns ny crink, as cheeir yn oie chiune orrin. As ayns kiuney ny hoie ghow y kay toshiaght mungley, as cheayll mee eh gaaloayrt skeeal anghooagh y chraght agglagh va jeant echey. "Queig-jeig galleonyn shenn Spaainey as keead, lhong hraghtee vooar daag Tyre, hoght lhuingyssyn-eeastee, kiare feed lhong cochaggee as jeig, daa-yeig lhonyn caggee fo hiauill as ny gunnyn oc, kiare feed baatey-awiney shiaght as tree cheead, daa haagh traghtee as daeed as spiosyn ayndaue, jeig birlingyn as feed, lhong caggee noa-emshiragh as feed, nuy thousane ard-varree..." vungil eh as eh geayrey, neayr's dirree mee dy tuittymagh as çhea voish e 'enish atçhimagh.
WIND AND FOG
"Way for us," said the North Wind as he came down the sea on an errand of old Winter.
And he saw before him the grey silent fog that lay along the tides.
"Way for us," said the North Wind, "O ineffectual fog, for I am Winter's leader in his age-old war with the ships. I overwhelm them suddenly in my strength, or drive upon them the huge seafaring bergs. I cross an ocean while you move a mile. There is mourning in inland places when I have met the ships. I drive them upon the rocks and feed the sea. Wherever I appear they bow to our lord the Winter."
And to his arrogant boasting nothing said the fog. Only he rose up slowly and trailed away from the sea and, crawling up long valleys, took refuge among the hills; and night came down and everything was still, and the fog began to mumble in the stillness. And I hear him telling infamously to himself the tale of his horrible spoils. "A hundred and fifteen galleons of old Spain, a certain argosy that went from Tyre, eight fisher-fleets and ninety ships of the line, twelve warships under sail, with their carronades, three hundred and eighty-seven river-craft, forty-two merchantmen that carried spice, thirty yachts, twenty-one battleships of the modern time, nine thousand admirals…." he mumbled and chuckled on, till I suddenly rose and fled from his fearful contamination.
Ta'n skeealeen shoh çhyndaait ass A Mistaken Identity liorish yn Çhiarn Dunsany. Ta'n lioar vunneydagh ry-lhaih er Project Gutenberg.
