Books and other items printed in Gaelic from 1871 to 1900 > Sar-obair nam bard gaelach, or, The beauties of Gaelic poetry, and lives of the Highland bards

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SAR-OBAIR NAM BARD GAELACH.
Bu tu mo chruit, mo cheol, ’s mo thaileasg,
’S mo leug phriseil, rimheach, aghmhor,
Bu leigheas eugail o na bh«ts domh,
Na’m feudaiun a ghna bhi mar riut.
E ho ro, £c.
Gu muladach mi’s mi smaointinn,
Air cuspair mo chion' gun chaochladh,
Oigh mhin, mhaiseach,nam bas maoth-gheal
’S a slios caoin-tla mar an. canach.
E ho ro,
Tha do dhealbh gun cbearb, gun fhiarradhj
Min-gheal, fior-ghlan, direach, lionta,
’S do nadur cho seamh’s bu mhiannach,
Gu pailt, fialaidh, ciallach, banail,
E ho ro, <£c.
Air fad m’ fhuireach an Dun-eideann,
Cumail comuinn ri luchd Beurla
Bheir mi ’n t-soraidh so gu'n treigsinn
Dh’ ionnsaidh m’ eibhneis ann ’sna glean-
E ho ro, S(c. [naibh.
Ge do tharladh dhomh bhi ’n taobh-sa,
Gur beag mo thlachd dheth na dii’-Ghaill.
’S bi'dh mi nis a’ cuir mo chul riu,
’S a deanamh m’ iuil air na beannaibh,
E ho ro, <| c,
Gur eatrom mo ghleus, a’s m’ iompaidh,
’S neo-lodail mo cheum o’n fhonn so,
Gu tir aid nan sar-fhear sunntach,
’S a treigsinn Galldachd ’nam dheannamh.
E ho ro, 4'c.
Diridh mi gu Tulach-Armuinn,
Air leth-taobh Srath min na Lairce,
’S tearnaidh mi gu Innseag blh-choill
’S gheibh mi Finne bhan gun smalau.
E ho ro, SfC.
MOLADH AN GISGE-BHEATHA.
LUINNEAG.
Jf't rb gur toigh leinn drama,
Ho rb gur toigh leinn drama,
Hb rb gur toigh leinn drama,
'S ioma fear tha'n geall air.
Mo ghaol an coiigearnach spraiceil,
Dh-fhas gu foirmeil, meanmacb,maiseach,
Dh-fhas gu speiseil, treabhach, tapaidh,
Neo-lapach san aimhi’eit;
Ho ro, <| c.
Ach trocair g’ an d’ fhuair a chailleach,*
Bha uaireigin arms na h-Earadh,
Cha mheasa ni mi do mho.adh,
Ge do lean mi’m fonn aic’.
Ho ro, Qc.
Thagh i’m fonn so, ’s sheinn i cliii dhut,
Dh-aithnich i’nsgoinn abh’ann san druthaig.
’Nuair a bhiodh a broinn san rupail,
B’e run thu bhi teann oirr\
Ho ro, §c.
Ach’s tu’m fear briodalach, sugach,
Chuireadh ar mi-ghean air chul duinn,
’S a chuireadh teas oirn san diilachd,
’Nuair bu ghnii an geamhradh,
Ho ro, <J;c.
Stuth glan na Tbiseachd, gun truailleadh,
Gur ioc-shlaint choir am beil buaidh e ;
’S tu thogadh m inntinn gu suairceas,
’S cha b'e druaib na Frainge.
Ho ro, <| c.
’S tu ’n gill’ eibhinn, meanmnach, boidheach,
Chuireadh na cailleachan gu boilich,
Bheireadh seanachas as na h-dighean
Air ro-mhdid am baiudeachd,
Ho ro, 4'C.
Chuireadh tu nails’ anns a bha’-laoch,
Sparradh tu uaill anns an arachd,
Dh-fhagadh tu cho suairc’ fear dreamach,
’S nach biodh air’ air dreanndan.
Ho ro, $c.
’S tu mo laoehan soitheamh, siobhalt,
Cha bhi loinn ach far am bi thu,
Fograi’ tu air falbh gach mi-ghean
’S bheir thu sith a aimhreit’.
Ho ro, cjc.
’S mor tha thlachd air do luchd toireachd,
Bithidh iad fialaidh, pailt ma’n stdras,
Chaoidh cha sgrubair’s an taigh-dsd iad,
Sgapadh dir nan deann leo.
Ho ro, 4"C.
* The bard here alludes to the celebrated Mary M'Leod
the poetess, who is said to have been a little dry in her last
years. Tradition has it that, when Mary paid a visit to
any of her friends, if the shell was not in immediate re¬
quisition, she feigned to be suddenly seized with colicks—
raising such lugubrious moans and shrieks as could not but
alarm the inmates. “ Oh 1 Mary, dear daughter,” they
would exclaim in their simplicity, ” what ails you—what
can do you good?” Mary, who was musical even in her
distress, would reply in the words of the chorus—“ llo rb
gur toigh team drama'*.