Blair Collection > Treatise on the language, poetry, and music of the Highland clans

OF THE HIGHLAND CLANS. 93
A gleachd gu duaichniJh ri'r suil Wrestling with our sails, kerch-white,*
a glee gu diij'ch-ni' rir suyl
bhreid-gheal,*
vreytyil
Oir thaom an oiclie na'r combail,
oyr haoin an oychc car còveyl
Air cuam dobhuidh nan tonn beucbdael.
ayr cu-an dovuy' nan toun beychdell
" Ciod," arsa Comhal na'm buaidh,
ci-od arsa coval nam buy'
" Am fa dbuin bbi 'g uadal cuain,
am fa yuyn vi gudal cuyn
Is eilleau fuar nan camus crom,
is eyllen fu-ar nan camus crom
A sgaoileadh a sgiathan foil,
a sgoyle' a sgi-a'-an foyl
Gu'r dion 'o dboinnean na h-oiche.
gur di-on o yoynen na hoyche
Tha e crom mar bhogb' air gbleus,
lia e crom mar vo' ayr yleys
Tba e seimb mar ucbd ma gbaoil.
ha e sheyv mar uchd ma yaoyle
Caitbeadb mid an oicbe fo sgeith,
cay' mid an oychè fo sgey'
lonad eibbeinn nan aisling ciuin."
i-oiiayd eyvinn nan ayshlin ci-uyn
Cbiialas combachag a creig,
chu-alas covachag a creyg
'S gutli broin ga freagairt a uaimh.
sgu broyn ga freygayrt a u-ayv
"Se gutb Dbeirg," arsa Combal, "a
se gu' yey'rig ar-sa coval a
tbann,
hann
Cbail sinn sa cbuan onf bacb,
cliayll sinn sa chu-an on-a-vach
'N tra tbill sinn o Locblan nan crann,
'n tra hill sinu o lochlan nan crann
'S gacb doiunean gu teann gar ruagadb.
sgach doynnen gu tenn gar ruga'
Tbog na tuiun an cinn 's na neoil,
hog na tuynn an cinn 's na noyl
Db-as sleibbtean ceo air an lear ;
yas slave-ten ce-o ayr an ler
Bba mbuir mbolacb le stuaidb gblas,
va vuyr volach le stuy' ylas
Fo bbuaireadh bbo iar gu ear.
fo vuyrà vo i-ar gu err
* The head-dress of Highland females was called " breid," a kerchief. Being enowy-white, the breid
is often used as a simile, as in the above case, for snowy-whiteness.
For tbe nigbt poured in our faces.
On a fierce sea of bellowing waves.
" Wby," said Goval of victories,
" Sbould we remain rocking on tbe sea,
And tbe cold island of bending bays
Spreading its wings calm
To sbelter us from tbe storms of nigbt.
It bends like a bow in action,
And is mild as tbe bosom of my love.
Let us spend tbe nigbt under its wing,
Tbe pleasing island of peaceful di-eams. "
An owl is beard from a rock.
And a mournful voice from a cave.
" It is tbe voice of Dargo," says Coval,
" Wbo was lost on a sobbing sea,
Wben we were returning from Locb-
lan of masts,
Witb every storm closely pursuing us.
Tbe waves lifted tbeir beads to tbe
skies.
Wolds of mist covered tbe face of tbe
deep ;
Tbe ocean was rougb witb grey waves,
And under fury from west to east