Mediaeval times
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AN T-ATHAIR (THE FATHER). Ilhie Mac Shomhairle bho'n Rùta, Le "chliabhan duilisg, 's le 'Imrich, Air ghearran bàn bacach crubach, 'Se 'ruith gu h-oitir nam mùsgan. Thig Iarl Eura romh chial Dùragh, Oho daondach's nach faodar a channtas; Cha stad e'n taobh so do'n Rùta, 'S Bheir e maidhm* air Iarla Hounntaidh. AN NIGHEAN (THE DAUGHTER). Thig Mac Shomhairle bho'n Rùta, 'Maroach nam fàlairean crùitheach, Nan steud fallain, meadhrach, sunntach, Strian òir 'nan ceann air a lùth-chleas. Thig Mac-Mhic Alastair air thùs ann, 'S Kaonallach g'an còir 'bhi cliùiteach, Ceannard bhàrd is chearach rùisgte. Chuirinn geall gu'm b' fheàird a' chùis sibh. Gheibht' 'ad bhaile beòir gun chunntas, Iomairt thric air phìosan dlùtha, Mao-na-Braich' air bhlas an t-shiùcair, Air bhòrd aca's aiseag dlùth air. Thig Mac-Mhic-Ailein a Muideart, Le dheich ceud do dh'fhearaibh cliùiteach Nan ologaid's nan sgiath's nan lùireach, 'S nan lann glas nach tais ri rùsgadh. Thig Mac Athic'Raonnuillbho'n Cheapaich, Oùirt-fhear air 'fhaolum 'an Sasonn, Nan steud lùthor meadhrach gasta, 'S greadhnach a rachadh nan astar. Dh' èirghaadh leat bho'n Ghleann-an-Chumhann Oighreachan deas nan cùl buidhe, Oinn-fheòdhna nach cuirt' am mughadh, '8 grtòdhnach 'dh' fhalbhadb a' bhuidheann. 'Ailein ruaidh, le d' theangadh lùibte ! Thèid mi'd bhian, is chì do shùil e ; Bho'n thrèig thu na facaill bu chliùiteach, Gu earras 'thoirt leat, 's nach b' fhiùighe e. Ma ghearras tu slat's dlùth-choill, Togar do mhart anns an ùbhladh; Bidh agad sreang air do cbùlaobh, 'S tu 'marcachd air chnagaibh dlùtha. 'S binn leam an langan's am bùireadh, Miql-ohoin 'an ceangal ri d' lùithean, 'Bhi 'gad tharraing as an dùthaich, Gu oitsin a' Bhaile mhùraich. ' Maoin. v Chunnaig mi long seach an rugha. Crith air a buird 'a 'na siubhal, Gaoth "ga seòladh roimh chaol cumhann, Clann-Dòmhnaill-an-fhraoich, a' bhuidheann. Translated by Mr Ewan MacLachlan, Aberdeen. THE FATHER (POET). See Sumerled's great child from Rutha speed With his dilse-pannier, and rag-fluttering weed, He trots on the lame, lifeless lazy beast, To dig for spout fish, his luxurious feast. But Erra's Earl, who makes the valiant yield, Shall bring his countless armies to the field To Rutha's towers the hero bends his course, And Huntly soon shall prove his mighty force. THE DAUGHTER (POETESS). Great Sumerled's great son, from Rutha speeds, Illustrious rider of high-mettled steeds, With thund'ring prance they beat the smoky plains And sunbeams glitter from their golden reins. Glengarry's chief shall lead the warlike throng, With brave MacRanalds, famed in lofty song, Oft cheers, thy boon, the bard and shiv ring swain, And threat'ning foes defy thy might in vain. Oft near thy mansion, round the jovial crowd, Health foll'wing health, the barmy beverage flowed, While Malt's delicious son with virtues stored In silver cups quick crossed the lib'ral board. See Muidart's captain comes with soul on fire, A thousand warriors march behind their sire, With helmets, shields, and radiant mail display'd Dire scene ! where these unsheath the azure blade The branch of Ronald comes from Keppoch's groves, With easy grace the court-bred warrior moves, His fiery coursers dart with lightning's pace, Panting with joy to run in glory's race. Near these the heirs of Cona's winding vale, Their yellow tresses streaming on the gale, Champions that never crouched to mortal foe, With rapid march around thy standard flow. Red-pated Allan ! loosely railed your tongue ! My wrath shall scourge you for the insulting song, At spotless worth you aimed your vulgar jibe, Deserting fame to gain a paltry bribe. If once you dare to touch our sacred grove, You'll pay the forfeit from your folded drove, Your back-bound hands the felon's thongs shall tame, And iron pegs torment your guilty frame. How sweet to hear the yell of barking hounds, Strung to your houghs inflicting wounds on wounds, And dragging from the land the Knave of Knaves, Doom'd, in some town, to toil with kitchen slaves. I saw the barge that passed yon headland mound, With bellying sails, she skimmed the frothy sound, Her gallant crew Clann Domhnuill's matchless name, That weais the branchy heath in fields of fame. SIR ALEXANDER, Ist LORD MACDONALD. * The words of this excellent reel song were kindly communicated by Mr Alex. Carmichael. t A localism in Uist with the same meaning as dh'fhuiliginn. Among our cian bards the distinguished subject of the present sketch deserves a high place. Sir Alexander MacDonald, sixteenth baron, and ninth baronet of Sleat, was on the 17th of July, 1766, created a peer of Ireland by the title of Baron MacDonald of Sleat and County Antrim.* In May 1761 he obtained a commission as ensign in the Coldstream regiment of Foot Guards, and on the 3rd of May, 1768, he married Elizabeth Diana, eldest daughter of Godfrey Bosville of Gunthwaite, county of York, by whom he had a family of seven sons and three daughters. He was educated at Eton, and turned out a highly accomplished scholar and musician, and a very keen politician. He took a considerable interest in literature, and was elected a member of the Society of Antiquaries. His taste for music led him to encourage those who took an interest in the arts. A celebrated harper named O'Kane, who travelled in the Highlands in those days, was often entertained by his Lordship, and he used to be delighted and charmed with his performances. Gunn, in his work on the harp, published in 1805, remarks that "no one was better able to feel and to estimate the superior talents of O'Kane, for I can vouch Lord MacDonald to have been one of our best amateurs on the violin, and one of the best judges of musical talents of that period. There had been for a great length of time in the family a valuable harp key; it was finely ornamented with gold and silver, and with a precious stone. This key is said to have been worth eighty or one hundred guineas, and on this occasion our itinerant harper had the good fortune of being presented by Lord MacDonald with this curious and valuable implement of his profession." In December, 1777, letters of service were issued to his Lordship to raise a regiment in the Highlands, with an offer of a lieutenant-colonelcy, He declined the rank, but recommended that it should be given to Major MacDonald, Lochgarry, who was in consequence at once appointed.
Lochgarry raised a fine body of men, numbering 1086, which was afterwards known as the 76th or MacDonald Highlanders. His Lordship Wag distinguished from the other barons of the family by the appellation of the " Morair Bàn," or the fair-haired lord, and " being an English-bred chieftain and given to increasing his rents, he was somewhat unpopular with his principal tenants, several of whom combined to Keep the lands at the old rents, and many of them feeling keenly the hard pressure of the times, were forced to emigrate."* At the time of Dr. Johnson's visit to Skye there was an emigrant ship, called the Nestor, in Portree Harbour to carry off the emigrants. Dr. Johnson's profound intellect saw at a glance the mistake of " educating a young beir to a great estate, at a distance from, and in ignorance of the country where he has so high a stake; hecannot acquire a knowledge of the people, can form no local attachment, be a stranger to his own property and to his tenants, is often disgusted with both, although the one is valuable by its produce, and the other estimable in character." In continuation of the same subject Boswell records the following conversation as having occurred between his lordship and Dr. Johnson : —" Were I in your place, sir, said Johnson, " in I seven years I would make this an independent I island, I would roast oxen whole, and hang I out a flag to the MacDonalds." Sir Alexander was still stating difficulties. " Nay, sir," con-tinued Johnson, " if you are born to object, I have done with you ; sir, I would have a magazine I of arms." Sir Alexander, " They would rust." I To which Johnson replied: " Let there be men to keep them clean ; your ancestors did not let them rust. Four years after this, Sir Alexander I found that arms pnt in the hands of his people would not be suffered to rust, and that when an opportunity offered they were ready to take them up in defence of their country, "t J Besides being a first-rate player on the violin I of classical and general music, nis lordship com-I posed a number of strathspeys and reels, still very I popular, such as " Lord MacDonald's reel," " Mrs J MacLeod, Raasay," " Mrs MacKinnon, Corry," I and several others. A famous Sleat violinist, named " Iain Ruadh (John Roy) Kennedy," was a great favourite of his and used often to be entertained at Armadale, in a musical capacity, ' and it is said that on one occasion, at least, his I lordship tied Kennedy's arm to a chair, but the I result was almost the same as if it had been free. I The following is a selection from his poetical I effusions :— i * History and traditions of the Isle of Skyo. t General Stewart's Sketches of the Highlanders. I vol. II., pp. 21-420. Latin Verses. Verses written by Sir Alexander, Lord Maenad, addressed and presented to Dr. Johnson, atArmadale, in the Isle of Skye, in 1773.- Viator o qui nostra per aequora Visurous agros skiaticos venis, En te salutantes tributim TJndique conglomerantur oris. Donaldini, quotquot in insulis Oompescit arctis limitibus ni are ; Alitqne jamdudum, ac alendos PiBCibus indigenas fovebit. Oiere fluctus siste, Procelliger, Neo tu laborans perge, precor, ratis, Ne conjugem plangat marita, Ne doleat soboles parentem. Nec te vicissimpoeniteat virum Luxisse; vestro scimus ut aestuant In corde luctantes dolores, Cum feriant inopina corpus. Quidni! peremtum clade tuentibus Plus semper illo qui morritur pati; Datur, doloris dum profundos Pervia mens aperit recessus. Valete luctus; hinc lacrymabiles Aroete visus : ibimus, ibimus Superbienti qua theatro Fingalite memorantur aulte. Ulostris hospes ! mox spatiabere Qua mens ruinos ducta meatibus Gaudebit explorare cietus Bucoina qua cecinit triumphos. Audin ? resurgens spirat anhelitu Dux uaitato, suscitat efficax Poeta manes, ingruitque Vi Bolita redivivus horror. Abeena quassaus tela gravi manu Sic ibat atrox Ossiani pater : Quiescat urnà, stet fidelis Enersonius vigil ad favillam. 1. Oh traveller, who comest o'er our seas, to view the fair lands of Skye, look how the clansmen are gathering on all sides to give thee welcome. 2. MacDonalds all of them; they have gathered from every island that lies in the ocean's em-braoe; (they are children of the sea), it has fed them of yore, and in times to come they shall draw their food from ocean's stores. 3. Oh thou bearer of the whirlwind, do thou cease and no longer raise the billows; and thou craft (whioh bearest the stranger) I pray thee, thou tossing craft, do not set forth (till the storms have ceased) lest the wife have cause to mourn her spouse, and the children to weep for their father. i. Nor let it grieve thee (generous craft) (to see) them weepingfor abraveman(lost); for we know how (like a living thing) grief boils up in thy heart when misfortune unexpected claims its victim. 5. And wherefore not ? for oft it is the lot of the beholder to suffer more keenly than themanwhom they see snatched off by death ; and a tender heart has measureless depths of sorrow. 6. But adieu sadness; hence, sorrow and tears. We shall go. We shall go, where mid proud scenes the memory of Fingal's halls is kept ever fresh. ■ 7. And you our noble guest, soon your steps shall stray, where aroused by the winding ruins, your imagination will revel in exploring the gathering halls where oft the bugle has sounded victory (its victorious notes). 8. Can you not hear it ? Again the chieftain lives and breathes, the poets art summons the spirits back to life and gruesome horrors live again. 9. Thus the proud father of Ossian used to march forth shaking his brazen darts in his strong hand. But let him lie still in his grave, and let the faithful Phersonius (MacPherson) stand guard by the tomb. LORD MACDONALD'S REEL.* (morag nighean dhomhuill duinn.) A Mhòrag nighean Dhòmhuill duinn, Tha thu cruinn sgiobalta; A Mhòrag nighean Dhòmhuill duinn, Tha thu cruinn bòidheach ! A Mhòrag bheag nighean Dhòmhuill ghibich, Is ioma fear 'thug ribean duit; A. Mhòrag bheag nighean Dhòmhuill ghibich, Is ioma fear 'tha 'n tòir ort! A Mhòrag bheag nighean Dhòmhuill uidhir Thug mi cion an uiridh duit; A Mhòrag bheag nighean Dhòmhuill uidhir, Bhuilichinnt do phòsadh ! Thug mi cion ! 'us cion ! 'us cion ! Thug mi cion an uiridh dhuit, Thug mi cion ! 'us cion ! 'us cion ! 'S bhuilichinn do phòsadh ! I am also indebted to Mr Alexander Carmichael, one of the best living authorities on Highland tradition, for the following quaint poem composed by one of the semi-regal MacDonalds of the Isles, many of whom were poets:— A nighean righ nan ròiseal soluis, An oidhche bhios òirnn do bhanais, Ma's fear beò mi'n Diintuilm, Thig mi tòirleum do d' earrais. Gheibh tu ciad bruicean taghal bruach, Ciad dòbhran donn duslach allt, Gheibh tu ciad damh allaidh àil nach tig Gu innis àrd Ghleannaidh. Download 4.23 Mb. Share with your friends:
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