J. F. Campbell Collection > Sar-obair nam bard gaelach, or, The beauties of Gaelic poetry

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SAIt-OBAIR NAM BARD GAELACII.
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M'an cuairt bioJh lù-chleas nan laogh,
Ri taobh nan smth., no air an leirg.
'S am minnean beag de'n ehdmhraìg sgith,
'N am achlais a' cadal gu'n cheilg.
7 *
Sruthadh air sgeith na h-osaig mhin,
Glaodhan maoth nan crò mu'm chluais,
'N sin f'reagraidh a mheanmh-sprcigh,
'Nuair chluinn, an gineil, is iad a ruitli a nuas.
t-se/al
A ceum an t-sealgair ri mo chluais !
Le sranna ghàth, a's chon teagh sleibh,
'N sin dearsaidh an òig air mo ghruaidh,
'N uair dh-eireas toirm air sealg an fhcidh,
lo
Dùisgidh smior am chnaimh, 'nuair chluinn,
Mi tailmrich dhos a's chon a's shreang,
Nuair ghlaodhar — " Thuit an damh !"
Tha mo hh uinn, a' leum gu beò ri àrd nam beann.
'N sin chi mi, air leam, an gadhar,
A leanadh mi an-moch a's moch ;
'S na sleibh bu inhiaunach leam ' thaghall.
'S na creagan a' freagairt do'n dòs.
/^
Chi mi 'n uamh a ghabh gu fial,
'S gu trie ar ceumaibh roi 'n oidhch' ;
Dhuisgeadh ar sunnd le blathas a crann,
'S an solas chuach a bha mòr aoibhneas.
Bha ceò air fleagh bhàrr an fheidh
An deoch à Treig 's an tonn ar ceòl,
Ge d' sheinneadh tàisg 's ge d' rànadh slèibh,
Sinnte 's an uaimh bu sheamh ar iieoil.
From what land blows the wind that bears the voice of
thy sorrow from the rock, O youth, who wentest on thy
journey from us, who hast left my hoary locks forlorn.
Are the tears in thine eyes, O thou virgin most modest
and beauteous, and of the whitest hand. Joy without end
tn the smooth cheek that shall never move from the nar-
row bed.
Say, since mine eye has failed, O wind, where grows the
reed with its mournful sound ? by its side the little fishes
whose wings never felt the winds' soft breath, maintain
their sportive conflict.
Tiaise me with a strong hand, and place my head under
the fresh birch ; when the sun is at high noon let its green
shield be above mine eyes.
Then shalt thou come, O gentle dream, who swiftly
walkest among the stars; let my night-work be in thy music,
bringing back the days of my joy to my recollection.
See. O my soul, the young virgin under the shade of the
oak, king of the forest ! her hand of snow is among her
locks of gold, and her mildly rolling eye on the youth of
her love.
He sings by her side— She is silent. Her heart par.ts,
and swims in his music ; love flies from eye to eye; deers
stop thtir course on the extended heath.
N'ow the sound has ceased ; her smooth white breast '
heaves to the breast of her love ; and her lips, fresh as the
unstained rose, are pressed close to the lips of her love. I
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Chi mi Beinn-ard is àillidh fiamli,
Ceann-feadhna air mhile beann,
Bha aisling nan damh na ciabh.
'S i leabaidh nan nial a ceanu.
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Chi mi Sgorr-eild' air bruach a ghlinn'
An goir a chuach gu binn au tòs.
A's gorm mheall-àild' na mile giubhns
Nan luban, nan earba, 's nan Ion.
/6
Biodh tuinn òg a snàmh le sunnd,
Thar linnc 's mine giubhas, gu luath.
trath ghiubhais uain' aig a ceann,
A' lubadh chaoran dearg air bruaich.
'J
Biodh eal' àluinn an uchd bhàin,
A snimh le spreigh air bharr nan tonn,
'Nuair thogas i sgiath an àird,
A measg nan nial cha'n fhàs i tròm.
S trie i g astar thar a chuain,
Gu asraidh fhuar nan ioma' ronn,
Far nach togar breid ri crann,
'S nach sgoilt sròn dharaich tonn.
Bi thusa ri dosan nan torn,
Is cumha' do ghaol arm ad bheul,
Eala ' thriall o thir nan tonn
'S tu seiun dhomh ciùil an aird nan speur.
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O! eirich thus' le t-òran ciùin,
'S cuir naigheachd bhochd do bhròin an ceill
'S glacaidh mac-talla gach ciuil,
An gùth tùrsa sin o d' bheul.
Happiness without end to the lovely pair, who have
awaked in my soul a gleam of that happy joy that shall
not return ! Happiness to thy soul, lovely virgin of the
curling locks.
Hast thou forsaken me, O pleasant dream? Return
yet— one little glimpse return : thou will not hear me,
alas! I am sad. O beloved mountains, farewell.
Farewell, lovely company of youths ! and you, O beau-
tiful virgin, farewell. I cannot see you. Yours is the joy
of summer ; my winter is everlasting.
O place me within hearing of the great waterfall, with
its murmuring sound, descending from the rock ; let a
harp and a shell be by my side, and the shield that de-
fended my forefathers in battle.
Come with friendship over the sea, O soft blast that
slowly movest ; bear my shade on the wind of thy swift-
ness, and travel quickly to the Isle of Heroes,
Where those who went of old are in deep slumber, deaf
to the sound of music. Open the hall where dwell Ossian
and Daol. The night shall come, and the bard shall not
be found.
But ah ! before it come, a little while ere my shade
retire to the dwelling of bards upon Ardven, from
whence there is no return, give me the harp and my
shell for the road, and then, my beloved harp and shell,
farewell.
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