Blair Collection > Songs and hymns of the Scottish Highlands

2-OCH, OCH! MAR THA MI-OCH, OCH! HOW LONELY.
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lOch,och! marl tha mi is mi 'namlaonar, Adol troimhlchoillfar an robhmi |eolach, /
Och, och ! how louely to wander weary Thro' scenes endearing with none beside me 1
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VXach fliaigh milàit' ann am fhearannjduthchais, Gedphaighinn'crun airson leud | na bi-oige
For all around now to me is dreary, My native land haa a home denied me.
Xeo-bhinu an fnuaim leam a dhuisg o m' shuain mi,
'Se tighinn annas orm o bhruaich i:aui mor-bheann,
An ciobair Gallda 's cha chord a chainnt rium,
E glaodhaich thall ri cu mall an dolais.
Moeh maduinn Cbeitein, an am dhomh eirigh,
Cha cheol air gheugan, no geum air mointich,
Acli sgreadail bheisdean 's a chanain bheurla,
Le coin 'g an eigheach, cur feldh air fogar.
An uair a chi mi Jia beanntan arda,
'Sanfhearannaigh'sanrobh Fionna chomliniiiilh'
Clia-n fliaic mi 'n aite ach na caoraich bliana,
Is Gain gun aireamh 's a h-uile comhail.
Na glinne chiatach 's am faighteadh fiadhach,
'M biodb com air iallan aig gillean oga,
Clia-n fhaic tha 'n diugh ann ach cioliair stiallach,
'S gur duibbe mheuran na sgiath na rocaio.
Chaidh gacb abhaist a chuir air fuadach,
('ha chluinn thu gruagach ri duan no oran ;
Nach bochd an sgeul e gu'n d' shearg ar n-iiaislean,
'S na balaich shuarach n'an aitean-conihnuidh ?
What sounds unsweet have disturbed me, marring
The long-sought slumbers around me falling?
The Lowland shepherd, with accent jarring,
Directs his sheepdog with hideous bawling.
No more are mornings in spring delightful
With deer soft lowing and woodland warliUs,
The deer have fled from these barkings frightful,
And loud the stranger his jargon garbles.
Our Highland mountains with purple heather,
Where Fingal fought and his heroes slumber.
Are white with sheep now for miles together,
And filled with strangers whom none can number.
The lovely glens where the deer long lingered
And our fair youths went with hounds to find them.
Are now the home of the long black-fini^ered
And lazy shepherds with dogs behind them.
The ancient customs and clans are banished,
No more are songs on the breezes swelling.
Our Highland nobles alas I are vanished.
And worthless upstarts are in their dwelling.
Author— the late Or. MacLaculan. Translation by L. Mi