Ossian Collection > Macdonald bards from mediaeval times

Raon Ruairi's day has chased away my rest,
And rules the mixed emotions of my breast,
For there, alas, my high and noble race,
Have met a loss the age will not replace.
But, ah, though all had 'scaped since Clavers fell.
Our much wronged King may bid his throne farewell.
In glory's path with faith unstrained he moved,
He spurned ambition, love of gold he proved
Beneath his thoughts, undaunted though alone.
He faced rebellion and sustained the throne.
In manhood's calmness, as in fervid youth.
One path was his — the path of loyal truth.
The carnage at tliis battle must have been con-
siderable, for in the "Memoirs of Dundee"
printed for James Brown at the Black Swan
without Temple Bar in 1714, " the enemy did not
maintain their ground two minutes after tlie
Highlanders were amongst them, and I dare bold
to say, there were scarce ever such strokes given
in Europe as were given that day by the High-
landers. Many of General MacKay's officers and
soldiers were cut down through tlie skull and
neck to the very Ijreast, otliers had tlieir skulls
cut oil" above their ears like night caps, some
soldiers had both their bodies and cross-belts cut
through at one blow. Pikes and small swords
were cut like willow wands. Whoever doubts
this, may consult many witnesses of the tragedy
still living."
When Ronald of the shield heard of the execu-
tion of Charles I. he composed " Cumha High
Tearlach a li-Aon " — lament for King Charles the
first — of whicli the following is a stanza :—
An cualadh sibh sgeula an k'iridh 's a' chràidh,
Chuir an rioghachd fo bhròn o Scuir Mhòr-bheann
gu traigh
Dh'fhalbh Prionnsa' bha saibhir an ealain 's an iùil,
'S tha' Bhan-righ a' cumhadh 's an deur 'na siiil,
'S tha, &c.
Heard ye the news of grief and pain,
That has put the country in mourning from the
peaks of the mountains to the shores,
Gone is the Prince that was rich in science and
various knowledge.
And the Queen is lamenting with the tear in her eye.
Little else is known of this poet-soldier who was
evidently a very brave man.*
* Campbell's Language, Poetry, and Music of the
Highland Clans.
DOMHNULL MACKAONUILL
(Donald, son of Ronald).
Donald MacDonald, son of Ronald of the Shield,
already mentioned as having escaped the massacre
of Glencoe, was the maternal grandfather of
Captain Campbell, author of " The Language,
Poetry, and Music of the Highland Clans." He
commanded the Glencoe men in the " forty-five,"
whose gay wit and broad humour kept the men of
the glens in continual amusement. He was the
author of the famous burlesque song, " Blia
claidiieanih air Iain 'san t-shearmoin," occasional
by some practical joking on the part of the poet.
On one occasion he called with his friend " Acha-
Triachadain " on a weaver named "Iain Mac-a-
Ghibidh" — John, son of the shaggy — Avhose
vanity contrasted strangely with his shabby ap- .
pearance and doubtful reputation for bravery,
and asked how tliey happened to find him at
liome, when the Prince having arrived, tlie wliole
people of the glen had gone to cliurch in tiie "Isle
of Munn " fully dressed and armed. "How is
that," replied John, suspiciously " and you
absent." " Our arms and dress are hid in a cave
in the hill, and we are on our way to get them,"
replied Donald. " Good morning, John, I thought
your loyalty was more zealous and less hesitating."
No sooner did they disappear than John started
to dress himself in great delight having donned his
kilt and arms, and marclied to the little island
where he broke in upon tiie worshippers Avho were
both surprised and amused at his appearance.
Next day the glen rung with the burlesque song
of "Bha Claidheamh air Iain 'san t-shearmoin "
(the sword on John at the sermon).
The song, which is very amusing, and full of
humour, describes the swagger of the warrior
minutely, and was as follows : —
Bha Claidheamh air Iain 's an t-searmoin.
Air Iain, air Iain,
Bha Claidheamh air Iain 's an t-searmoin,
Bha Claidheamh air Iain,
Fear deas-laimh mo chiidhe,
'S tu dheanadh an fliighe neo-chearbach.
A sword was on John,
On John, on John ;
A sword was on John at the sermon,
A sword was on John.
The right-handed man of my heart,
Who makes the weaving not awkwardly.