Blair Collection > Celtic lyre

12 -AN RIBHINN DONN-THE AUBURN MAID.
■KEY "D.— Lively.
r .,d :d .,d
ribliinn donn, 'S a'
s ., s : d' ., t 11 : 1 .
,'lileam taobli tliall nam I fuar-blieanii,
dearly love my aubm-n maid, That dwells behind the mountain;
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i^:^=
',d' I r' ., s : s ., n Is
, 'San Ifheasgar chiiiiu theid |mi
At eve I'll meet her in
., s : 1 ., s If ., r : d ., d I r : r
le m' run Gu | doire dliith nam | fuaran.
the glade, To roam by dell and fountain.
Mo sheang-choin-seilg tha 'n garbhlach fhiadh,
'S mo chridhe cian tha 'n còmhnuidh
'S a' ghleann 's an èisd mo Mhàiri ghrinn
Ei ceilear binn na smeòraich.
Tha eòin an t-sleibh air s<,a'ith mu 'n cuairt,
'S cha dtiisg iad fuaim mo liimhaich,
'Us mis' am prkmh 'an sgath nam bruach.
'S mo smaoin mu 'n ghi-uagaich ghràdhaich.
'S i 's aotruim' ceum 's a's deàrsaich' sùil,
'S a gkir' tha ciùin 'us caoimhneil,
*S a guth tha dhòmhs' mar shòlas ciMl
'S mi 'falbh nan stiichd 's an oidhche.
'S e 'caoin-fhalt fàinneach 's àillidh sgèimh,
'S a braighe 's gle-gheal, bòidhche,
Fo osna 'clèibh ag ^iridh sfeimh,
Mar fhaoilinn bhàin air Lòchaidh.
A cridhe caomhail 's aotrom sunnd,
Mar mhang aig surd an r^idhlean ;
Ach caomh 'us tlàth mar bhlàth fo dhrihchd,
'Am maise chiidn a' Chèitein.
Mo ribhinn ghràidh a's àillidh sgiamh
'S tu 's araidh beus 's a's bòidhche,
'S a' mhaise dh' fhàs air gràdh nan ceud
Cha trèig thu 'n Inbhear-Lòchaidh.
Ged gheibhinn lu-chuirt, 's crtin an Righ,
A d'-iùnnais dhiobrainn coir orr' :
'S mo bhean 's mo bhàn-righ bheirinn 1
Gu tuine 'n tir nam mòr-bheann.
Though here, with hounds, I chase the deer,
Where streamlets bright meander,
To yonder glen, where dwells my dear,
My thoughts will ever wander.
The birds that round about me fly.
Pour forth their notes of gladness ;
Wlaile here alone I sit and sigh
In sorrow and in sadness.
Her step is light, her eye is bright,
Her smile is sweet and tender ;
Her voice, like music in the night.
Oft cheers me to remember.
Her hair around her shoulders flows
With graceful waving motion ;
Her snow-white bosom heaving goes.
Like sea-gull on the ocean.
Her heart, though light, is ever true.
Of Nature's own adorning ;
Her lips like roses, wet with dew,
UiJon a Summer morning.
By all thy beauty is confessed,
In form thou'rt like a fairy.
Were I of all the world possessed,
I would not leave my Mary.
Though I a palace did receive.
And were with riches laden —
I'd have thee for my queen, believe.
My own sweet Auburn Maiden.
Gaelic words by Mr A. MAClNTYRE. Translation by " Fionn."