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

OF THE HIGHLAND CLANS.
175
Na dol an coinneamh do leannan,
na dol an coynnev do lennan
Ge bheil sneaclida mar cheir,
ge veyl snechda mar cheyr
Bi sin a bhana-cheilidh bhoidheacli,
bi sin a vana-cheyli' voy'ech
Is ctrom moralacli ceiim.
13 e-ti'om nior-alach ceym
Sweet is the converse of the hart
With his unsullied mate,
Nor would he from her side depart,
To plunge where clubs debate ;
To swill at porter or at ale,
Or whisky fierce and blue.
Where Lowland greed and craft prevail
And Highland hearts are true.
No ! he would rather slake his thirst
Ere Sol ascends the sky.
Where virgin streams in crystal burst
From corries wild and high ;
Where the cold cress in clusters green
A frugal meal supplies.
And lichens decked in silver sheen
Afford a juicy prize.
With joy he roams the mountains blue,
And valleys fair and wide,
'Mong heather bathed in pearly dew,
With his fond faithful bride.
She sees but him, him only loves,
No other fills her eyes ;
Him watches, moving as he moves.
And in his bosom lies.
Oh, how I love the free-born race,
Of beauteous gait and form,
When after them, in headlong chase,
My Oscar and my Storme
Strain every nerve, and make them strain
Each nerve and sinew too.
If, in their fearful strait, they'd gain
Benard, thy corries blue.
They traverse each romantic glen,
Browse on each secret lee,
Make love in every cozy den.
And wander far and free :
While here I pine in hopeless ward.
Nor mark my herd of deer.
Fleeting across thy brow, Melard,
And on thy wolds career.
Oh little do I love to trace
Edina's streets and lanes,
Or breathe lip-love with courtly grace
In palaces or fanes ;
Give me the forest wide and high,
The mountain and the vale,
Where dwell the herds of piercing eye,
Whose speed outstrips the gale.
Ah, me, 'tis hard to wither here,
And smoke and fumes inhale
From dusky lanes and vennels drear.
And gutters dark and stale ;
And bid sweet Skye of bays and dells,
Wild glens, and mountains blue,
Where all I love in comfort dwells,
A long, a sad adieu.
The fulling, like the boat songs of the Gael, had an air of extemporaneous-
ness and simplicity, combined with a prancing caracoling peculiarity iu the style
and measure of the verses, which made them very attractive and pleasing,
although they disclaimed all pretensions to poetry. The mode of procedure
was thus : — Some romantic recess by the side of a burn was selected, where a
platform of plaited wattles was erected, on the centre of which the cloth to
be fulled was placed. The neighbourhood being always put under requisi-
tion on these occasions, a band of maidens, consisting usually of all the more
free-hearted, gay, and jolly young women of the locality, assembled, giving
their services gratuitously'. So many of them, bare armed and bare legged,