Ossian Collection > Songs of the Gael

23-FEAR A BHATA-THE BOATMAN.
8l6ioly and tenderly.
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'S trie mi | sealltuimi o'n chnoc a's | air ■ de, Dh'fheuch am| faic mi fear a | bhk
I climb the mountains, and scan the o • cean For thee, my boatman, with fond de • vo
Seiid.—Slax & bh^ • ta, na ho • ro ei • le, f hir a bh^ - ta, na ho - ro ei
CAortw.— O, my boatman, na ho • ro ai - la, 0, my boatman, ua bo - ro at
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a: Ita mil II
(An tig thu'nl diugh no an tig thui | maireach ? 'S mur tig thul i - dir gur truagh
When shall I see thee? to-day? to-morrow? Oh! do not leave me in lone - ly sorrow.
Fhir a bh^ - ta, na ho - ro ei - le, Gu ma slan duit's gach ait' an teid thu I
O, my boatman, na ho-ro ai - la, Happy be thou where'er thou
Tha mo chridhe-sa briste, brtiite;
'S trie na deoir a ruith o m' shtiilean ;
An tig thu nochd, no 'm bi mo dhtiil riut ?
No 'n duin mi 'n dorus, le osna thursaich ?
'S trie mi foighneachd de luchd nam bkta,
Am fac iad thu, no 'm bheil thu sb,bhailt :
Aeh 'a ann a tha gaeh aon diubh 'g rh,ite,
Gur gbrach mi, ma thug mi grkdh dhuit.
Gheall mo leannan domh ghn dhe 'n t-sioda,
Gheall e siod agus breacan riomhach ;
Fainn' 5ir anns am faicinn iomhaigh ;
Ach 's eagal leam gun dean e di-chuimhn'.
Ged a thuirt iad gu'n robh thu aotrom,
Cha do lughadaich siod mo ghaol ort ;
Bi'dh tu 'm aisling anns an 5idhche,
Is anns a mhaduinn bi'dh mi 'g ad fhoighneachd.
Thug mi gaol duit 's cha 'n f haod mi kicheadh ;
Cha ghaol bliadhna, 's cha ghaol rkidhe ;
Ach gaol a th6isich nuair bha mi 'm phkisde,
'S nach searg a ehaoidh, gus an claoidh am bks mi.
Tha mo chkirdean gu trie ag innseadh,
Gu'm feum mi t'aogaa a chur air di-chuimhn';
Aeh tha 'n comhairle dhomh cho diomhain,
'S bhi pilleadh mara 's i tabhairt Uonaidh.
Bi'dh mi tuille gu ttirsach, deurach,
Mar eala bhan 's i an d^igh a reubadh;
Guileag bkis aic' air lochan feurach,
Is each uile an deigh a tri^icfsinn.
Broken-hearted I droop and languish,
And frequent tears show my bosom's anguish;
Shall I expect thee to-night to cheer me ?
Or close the door, sighing sad and weary?
From passing boatmen I 'd fain discover
If they have heard of, or seen my lover;
They never tell me — I 'm only chided.
And told my heart has been sore misguided.
My lover promised to bring his lady
A silken gown and a tartan plaidie,
A ring of gold which would show his semblance.
But, ah ! 1 fear me for his remembrance.
That thou 'rt a rover my friends have told mo^
But not the less to my heart I hold thee ;
And every night in my dreams I see thee.
And still at dawn will the vision flee me.
I may not hide it — my heart's devotion
Is not a season's brief emotion ;
Thy love in childhood began to seize me.
And ne'er shall fade untU death release me.
My friends oft tell me that I must sever
All thought of thee from my heart for ever;
Their v/ords are idle — my passion 's swelling.
Untamed as ocean, can brook no quelling.
My heart is weary with ceaseless wailing,
Like wounded swan when her strength is failing,
Her notes of anguish the lake awaken.
By all her comrades at last forsakeiv