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

UILLEAM ROS.
289
Cha’ n’eil cleireach, no pears eaglais,
Crabhach, teallsanach, no sagart,
Dha nach toir thu caoehladh aigne—
Sparra’ eeill san amhlair.
Ho ro, fyc.
Cha’ n’eil cleasaich anns an rioghachd
Dha’m bu leas a dhol a stri riut,
Dh-fhagadh tu e-san na shineadh,
’S pioban as gach ceann deth.
Ho ro, fyc.
Dh-fhagadh tu fear mosach fialaidh,
Dheana’ tu fear tosdach briathrach,
Chuire’ tu sog air fear cianail,
Le d’ shoghraidhean greannar.
Ho ro, §c.
Dh-fhaga’ tu cho slan fear bacach,
’S e gun ich, gun oich, gun acain,
’G eiridh le sunnt air a leth-chois,
Gu spailpeil a dhamhsa.
Ho ro, Qc.
Chuire’ tu bodaich gu beadradh,
’S na croraaichean sgrogach, sgreagach,
Gu eiridh gu frogail, sa cheigeil,
Ri sgeig air an t-sheann aois,
Ho ro. fyc.
Bu tu suiriche mo ruin-sa,
Ge d’ thuirt na mnathan nach b’fhiii thu,
’Nuair a thachras tu sa’ chuil riu,
Bheir thu cuis gun taing dhiu.
Ho ro, fyc.
Bu tu cairid an fhir-fhacail,
Bheireadh fuasgla’ dha gu tapaidh.
Ged nach dl e dhiot ach cairteal,
’S blasmhoirid a chainnt e.
Ho ro, fyc.
Tha cho liugha buaidh air fas ort,
’S gu la-luain nach faod mi’n aireamh,
Ach ’se sgaoil do chliu ’s gach aite,
Na baird a bhi ’n geall ort.
Ho ro, §c.
Thogadh ort nach b’fheairde mis thu,
Gun ghoid thu mo chuid gun fhios uam
Ach gun taing do luchd do mhiosgainn
Cha chreid mise drannd dheth.
Ho ro, fyc.
Bha mi uair,’s bu luach-mhor t-fheum dhomh,
Ge nach tuig mal-shluagh gun cheill e,
Dvm amabam, sed quid refert,
Na ghraisg qua nmanda.
Ho ro, fyc.
MAC-NA-BRACHA.
LUINNEAG.
'S toigh linn drama, lion a gldaine,
Cuir an t-searrag sin an nail;
Mac-ma-bracJC an gille gasda,
Cha bu rapairean a chlann.
Ge b’e dhi-mol thu le theangaidh.
B’olc an aithne bha im cheann.
Mar tig thu fhathast na charamh,
Gu’m beil mo bharail-sa mealtV
\$ toigh linn drama, <^c.
Na’m b’e duine dha nach b’eol thu,
Dheana’ foirneart ort le cainnt,
Cha bhidheamaid fein dha leanmhuinn,
Chionn’s gu’m biodh do shealbh air gann,
'S toigh linn drama, tyc.
Ach fear a bha greis na d’ chomunn,
Cha b'e chomain-s’ a bh’ann
Bhi cuir mi-chliu air do nadur,
Gur an dha-sa bhios a chall,
'S toigh linn drama, fyc.
Co dh’aoireadh fear do bheusan ?
Ge do bheirt’ e fein sa’n Fhraing,
No dhi-mholadh stuth na Toiseachd ?
Ach trudar nach uladh dram.
'S toigh linn drama, c^c.
Stuth glan na Toiseadh gun truailleadh,
An ioc-shlaint is uaisle t’ arm,
S fearr gu leigheas na gach lighich,
Bha no bhitheas a measg Ghall.
'S toigh linn drama, 4"C.
Cia mar a dheanamaid banais ?
Cumhnanta, no ceangal teann ?
Mar bi dram againn do’n Chleireach,
Bu leibeideach feum a pheann.
’S' toigh linn drama, #c.
* When our author’s celebrated preceeding song in
praise of whisky became generally known, Mr John Mac.
Donald, the author of the excellent love-ditty, the second
set of Mairi Laghach, invoked his muse and composed a
parody on it systematically overthrowing every thing Ross
had said in its praise. Our author having heard ofthis,again
| tuned his lyre—sustained the positions he formerly as¬
sumed—castigated the vilifier of aqua vita and at still
| greater length celebrated the inspiring qualities of it.
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