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

104 THE
A dhearg shuil fo ghiorraig, 's e broii.
a yerag Imyl fo yirrayg se bron
Dhe-eirich Cormag an anam an righ,
yeyrich coimac aa anam an ri'
Gun chli, is a lot na thaobh.
gun chli is a lot na liaov
Le f haichte, bha 'n t-og an dubhra,
le aychte va'n tog an duvra
Fhuil chraobhach a srutha bho chliabh,
uyl chrovach a sru'-a vo chli-av
Thog Cairber a shleagh tri uairen,
hog cayrber a le-a' tri uayren
Tri iiairen cliuir e f heusag fo laimh ;
tri u-ayren chuyr e eysag fo layv
Chaisg e tri uairean a cheum,
chaysg e tri u-ayien a chèym
'S cbrath e ruigli na'm beud gu h-ard.
8 chra' e ruy nam beyd gu hard
Mar niol am fasach a mor thriatb,
mar ni-ol am fasach a mor ri-a'
A caocbladh fo'n ghaoidh a dhealbh,
a caoohla' fo'n yany' a yel-av
Na gleannaibh a bron fo'n f hirich,
na glenniv a bron fo'n irich
Ma seach fo ghiorraig nam braon.
ma sech fo yirrig nam braon
Ghabb an righ a mhor anam dha fein,
yav an ri' a vor anam ya leyn
Ghlac e sleagh nan treun na laimh,
ylac e sleagh nan treyn na layv
Thiondaidh e shuil air cul magh Lena,
hi-ouday' e huyl ayr cul ma' lena
Far a blieil luchd faire nan gorm thonn.
far a veyl luchg fayrre nan gorm honn
Thainig iad le'n ceumaibh fo f hiamh,
haynig i-ad len ceymayv fo i-av
A coimhead trie air slios an t-shaile :
a coyved trie ayr slis an taylè
Dh-aithnich Cairber gu'n d' thainig
yaynich cayrber gun daynig
an righ.
an ri'
Ghairm e dorchadh na triadh gu lahnh.
yayrm e doroha' na tri-ay' gu layv
Grad thainig ceum f huairaer nan sonu,
yrad haynig ceym u-aymer nan sonn
An ghlas-lannaibhlomadhnan laimhibh.
an glasB-lannayv loma' nan ISy'iv
An sin bha Morla uaibh-riach ciar,
an ein va morla u ayv-rich ci-ar
POETRY
His red eye is cowed ; he is in grief.
Cormak rises on the soul of the king,
Feeble, with a wound in his side.
Half seen, in the shade, is the youth ;
The blood pouring from his bosom.
Cairber thrice lifted the spear,
Thrice stroked his beard with his
hand,
Thrice checked his (forward) step,
And shook his deadly arm on high.
Like a cloud in the desert is tlie great
chief,
Changing its shape in the wind.
The glens darken below their hills,
Alternately expecting the shower.
The king resumed his mighty soul.
He grasped the spear of heroes in his
hand.
He turned his eye on the back of
Lena's hill,
Where are placed the watchers of the
blue waves.
They approach in the steps of fear,
Often looking on the face of the sea.
Cairber knew that the king was come.
He, darkly, called his warriors to his
presence.
Quickly came the resounding steiis
of the warriors,
With their grey blades bare in their
hands.
There was Morla, fierce and swarthy.