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

Gur biniie leom do cliomhradh
gur biiine le-em do chov-ra'
Na'n smeoil a 'm bar na meanganan.
nan sme-oyl am bar na menganan
O'n chuir mi 'n tus ort eolas,
on chuyr mi 'n tus ort e-o-las
Gu'n d'thug mi gaol cho mor ort,
gun dug mi gaol cho mor ort
Mar fhaidh mi u ri phosadh,
mar fay' mi u ri fosa'
Gu'n cuir do bhron fo'n talamli mi.
gim cuyr do vron foa talav mi
OF THE HIGHLAND CLANS. 151
Sweeter to me is tliy conversation
Than the tlirush on the topmost
brandies.
Since I first made thy acquaintance,
So great has been my love to thee,
That unless I receive thee in marriage,
Sorrow for thee will put me under
the sward.
Mari Nighean Alisdair Kuaidh, (Mary the Daughter of Red Alexander,)
from whose works Logan selected many of the verses of his able introduction
to Mackenzie's Collection, among many others which may justly be called the
most exquisite remains of our sixteenth century poems, without excepting those
of the Piobaire Dall himself, left several laments. One of these, called " Cumha
Mhic Leoid," is very touching. I will submit a few verses of it, to show the
variety of measures at her command. She was born in the Island of Harris,
about the beginning of the sixteenth century.
'S trom a mulad a shugh
s trom a mulad a buy
'M aiteas, 'm aille, 's mo lugh ;
maytes maylè 's mo lu'
'S trie snithe bho'm shuil
's trie sni'-e voni huyl
A tuitam gu dlu ;
a tuytam gu dlu
Chail mi altruman m' iuil,
cbayl mi altruman mi-uyl
Fear deacidh mo chiuil ;
fer dec-ay' mo chi-uyl
Gu mire na muirn cha teid mi.
gu mire na muyrn cha teyd mi
Si'n fhras nacli ciuin,
sin ras racb ci-uyn
A chreach air muir,
a cbrech ayr rauyr
A shrac air siuii,
a b-rac ayr si-uyl
Sa bhrist air stiuir,
sa vrist ayr sti-uyr
Is cairt air iuil,
is cayrt ayr i uvl
MHIC LEOID.
Ileavy is the grief that absorbed
My happiness, my beauty, my strength;
Often tears from my eyes
Fall in quick succession ;
I have lost the nursling of my lore.
The inspirer of my lays ;
To banquet or merry-making I will
not go.
'Twas a hail-storm, not mild.
That desolated our homes.
That rent om- sails.
And broke our helm,
Our card of knowledge, (compass)