Part 17

The rowan tear down fell, Her bosom wasna well, For she sabbit most wofullie; "Oure the yirth I wad gang, And never count it lang, But I fear ye carena for me, Willie, But I fear ye carena for me."

Nae langer could he thole, She tore his vera soul, He dighted her bonnie blue e'e; "Oh, what was it you said, Oh my ain loving maid? I 'll never love a woman but thee, Mary, I 'll never love a woman but thee!"

The fae is forced to yield, And freedom has the field; "Away I will ne'er gang frae thee; Only death shall us part, Keep sic thoughts frae my heart, But never shall part us the sea, Mary, But never shall part us the sea."

METRICAL TRANSLATIONS

FROM

The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy.

EVAN MACLACHLAN.

One of the most learned of the modern Gaelic song-writers, Evan Maclachlan, was born in 1775, in a small hut called Torracaltuin, in the district of Lochaber. After struggling with many difficulties in obtaining the means of education, he qualified himself for the duties of an itinerating tutor. In this capacity it was his good fortune to live in the families of the substantial tenantry of the district, two of whom, the farmers at Clunes and Glen Pean, were led to evince an especial interest in his welfare. The localities of those early patrons he has celebrated in his poetry. Another patron, the Chief of Glengarry, supplied funds to enable him to proceed to the university, and he was fortunate in gaining, by competition, a bursary or exhibition at King's College, Aberdeen. For a Greek ode, on the generation of light, he gained the prize granted for competition to the King's College by the celebrated Dr Claudius Buchanan. Having held, during a period of years, the office of librarian in King's College, he was in 1819 elected master of the grammar school of Old Aberdeen. His death took place on the 29th March 1822. To the preparation of a Gaelic dictionary he devoted the most important part of his life. Subsequent to his decease, the work was published in two quarto volumes, by the Highland Society, under the editorial care of Dr Mackay, formerly of Dunoon. The chief amusement of Maclachlan's leisure hours was executing translations of Homer into Gaelic. His translation of the third book of the Iliad has been printed. Of his powers as a Gaelic poet, an estimate may be formed from the following specimens in English verse.

A MELODY OF LOVE.

The first stanza of this song was the composition of a lady. Maclachlan completed the composition in Gaelic, and afterwards produced the following version of the whole in English.

Not the swan on the lake, or the foam on the shore, Can compare with the charms of the maid I adore: Not so white is the new milk that flows o'er the pail, Or the snow that is shower'd from the boughs of the vale.

As the cloud's yellow wreath on the mountain's high brow, The locks of my fair one redundantly flow; Her cheeks have the tint that the roses display When they glitter with dew on the morning of May.

As the planet of Venus that gleams o'er the grove, Her blue rolling eyes are the symbols of love: Her pearl-circled bosom diffuses bright rays, Like the moon when the stars are bedimm'd with her blaze.

The mavis and lark, when they welcome the dawn, Make a chorus of joy to resound through the lawn: But the mavis is tuneless, the lark strives in vain, When my beautiful charmer renews her sweet strain.

When summer bespangles the landscape with flowers, While the thrush and the cuckoo sing soft from the bowers, Through the wood-shaded windings with Bella I 'll rove, And feast unrestrained on the smiles of my love.

THE MAVIS OF THE CLAN.

These verses are allegorical. In the character of a song-bird the bard relates the circumstances of his nativity, the simple habits of his progenitors, and his own rural tastes and recreations from infancy, giving the first place to the delights of melody. He proceeds to give an account of his flight to a strange but hospitable region, where he continued to sing his songs among the birds, the flocks, the streams, and cultivated fields of the land of his sojourn. This piece is founded upon a common usage of the Gaelic bards, several of whom assume the allegorical character of the "Mavis" of their own clan. Thus we have the Mavis of Clan-ranald by Mac-Vaistir-Allister--of Macdonald (of Sleat) by Mac Codrum--of Macleod, and many others.

Clan Lachlan's tuneful mavis, I sing on the branches early, And such my love of song, I sleep but half the night-tide rarely; No raven I, of greedy maw, no kite of bloody beak, No bird of devastating claw, but a woodland songster meek. I love the apple's infant bloom; my ancestry have fared For ages on the nourishment the orchard hath prepared: Their hey-day was the summer, their joy the summer's dawn, And their dancing-floor it was the green leaf's velvet lawn; Their song was the carol that defiance bade to care, And their breath of life it was the summer's balmiest air.

When first my morn of life was born, the Pean's[37] silver stream Glanced in my eye, and then there lent my view their kinder gleam, The flowers that fringed its side, where, by the fragrant breezes lull'd, As in a cradle-bed I lay, and all my woes were still'd. But changes will come over us, and now a stranger I Among the glades of Cluaran[38] must imp my wings and fly; Yet gratitude forbid complaint, although in foreign grove, Since welcome to my haunt I come, and there in freedom rove.

By every song-bird charm'd, my ear is fed the livelong day, Now from the hollow's deepest dell, now from the top-most spray, The comrades of my lay, they tune their wild notes for my pleasure, And I, can I refrain to swell their diapason's measure? With its own clusters loaded, with its rich foliage dress'd, Each bough is hanging down, and each shapely stem depress'd, While nestle there inhabitants, a feather'd tuneful choir, That in the strife of song breathe forth a flame of minstrel fire. O happy tribe of choristers! no interruption mars The concert of your harmony, nor ever harshly jars A string of all your harping, nor of your voices trill Notes that are weak for tameness, that are for sharpness shrill.

The sun is on his flushing march, his golden hair abroad, It seems as on the mountain's side of beams a furnace glow'd, Now melts the honey from all flowers, and now a dew o'erspreads (A dew of fragrant blessedness) all the grasses of the meads. Nor least in my remembrance is my country's flowering heather, Whose russet crest, nor cold, nor sun, nor sweep of gale may wither; Dear to my eye the symbol wild, that loves like me the side Of my own Highland mountains that I climb in love and pride.

Dear tribes of nature! co-mates ye of nature's wandering son-- I hail the lambs that on the floor of milky pastures run, I hail the mother flocks, that, wrapp'd in their mantle of the fleece, Defy the landward tempest's roar, and defy the seaward breeze. The streams they drink are waters of the ever-gushing well, Those streams, oh, how they wind around the swellings of the dell! The flowers they browze are mantles spread o'er pastures wide and far, As mantle o'er the firmament the stars, each flower a star! I will not name each sister beam, but clustering there I see The beauty of the purple-bell, the daisy of the lea.

Of every hue I mark them, the many-spotted kine, The dun, the brindled, and the dark, and blends the bright its shine; And, 'mid the Highlands rude, I see the frequent furrows swell, With the barley and the corn that Scotland loves so well.

* * * * *

And now I close my clannish lay with blessings on the shade That bids the mavis sing her song, well nurtured, undismay'd; The shade where bloom and cresses, and the ear-honey'd heather, Are smiling fair, and dwelling in their brotherhood together; For the sun is setting largely, and blinks my eye its ken; 'T is time to loose the strings, I ween, and close my wild-wood strain.

FOOTNOTES:

[37] The stream that flows through Glen Pean.

[38] The Gaelic name of Clunes, where the bard was entertained for many years of his tutor life.

THE THREE BARDS OF COWAL.[39]

JOHN BROWN.

One of the bards of Cowal is believed to have been born in the parish of Inverchaolain about 1750; his family name was Brun or Broun, as distinguished from the Lowland Brown, which he assumed. He first appeared as a poet by the publication, at Perth, in 1786, of a small volume of Gaelic poetry, dedicated to the Duke of Montrose. The subsequent portion of his career seems to have been chiefly occupied in genealogical researches. In 1792 he completed, in two large sheets, his "Historical and Genealogical Tree of the Royal Family of Scotland;" of which the second edition bears the date 1811. This was followed by similar genealogical trees of the illustrious family of Graham, of the noble house of Elphinstone, and other families. In these productions he uniformly styles himself, "Genealogist to his R. H. the Prince of Wales, for Scotland." Brown died at Edinburgh in the beginning of the year 1821. He had formed a respectable connexion by marriage, under circumstances which he has commemorated in the annexed specimen of his poetry, but his latter years were somewhat clouded by misfortune. He is remembered as a solicitor for subscriptions to his genealogical publications.

FOOTNOTES:

[39] Cowal is that portion of Argyllshire bordering the Frith of Clyde, and extending inland to the margin of Lochfine.

THE SISTERS OF DUNOLLY.

The poet had paid his addresses to one of the sisters, but without the consent of her relatives, who ultimately induced her to wed another. After a lapse of time the bard transferred his affection to another daughter of the same distinguished family, and being successful, was compensated for his former trials.

The sundown had mantled Ben Nevis with night, And the stars were attired in the glory of light, And the hope of the lover was shining as day, When Dunolly's fair daughter was sprited away.

Away she has gone at the touch of the helm, And the shadows of darkness her lover o'erwhelm-- But, would that his strength as his purpose was true, At Dunolly, Culloden were battled anew!

Yes! did they give courtesy, did they give time, The kindred of Cowal would meet at the prime, And the _Brunach_[40] would joy, in the succour they gave, To win him a bride, or to win him a grave.

My lost one! I'm not like the laggard thou'st found, Whose puissance scarce carries the sword he has bound; In the flush of my health and my penniless youth, I could well have rewarded thine honour and truth.

Five years they have pass'd, and the Brunach has shaken The burden of woe that his spirit was breaking; A sister is salving a sister's annoy, And the eyes of the Brunach are treasured with joy.

A bride worth the princesses England is rearing, Comes forth from Dunolly, a star reappearing; If my heart in Dunolly was garner'd before, In Dunolly, my pride and my pleasure is more.

The lowly, the gentle, the graceful, the mild That in friendship or charity never beguiled, She is mine--to Dunduala[41] that traces her stem, As for kings to be proud of, 'tis prouder for them, Though Donald[42] the gracious be head of her line, And "our exiled and dear"[43] in her pedigree shine.

Then hearken, ye men of the country I love! Despair not, unsmooth though the course of your love, Ere ye yield to your sorrow or die in your folly, May ye find, like the Brunach, another Dunolly.

FOOTNOTES:

[40] Brunach--The Brown, viz., the poet himself.

[41] The Macdougalls of Dunolly claim descent from the Scoto-Irish kings who reigned in Dunstaffnage.

[42] Supposed to be the first of our Christian kings.

[43] Prince Charles Edward.

CHARLES STEWART, D.D.

The Rev. Dr Stewart was born at Appin, Argyllshire, in 1751. His mother was a daughter of Edmonstone of Cambuswallace, the representative of an old and distinguished family in the counties of Perth and Stirling; and his father was brother of Stewart of Invernachoil, who was actively engaged in the cause of Prince Charles Edward, and has been distinguished in the romance of Waverley as the Baron of Bradwardine. This daring Argyllshire chief, whom Scott represents as being fed in the cave by "Davie Gellatly," was actually tended in such a place of concealment by his own daughter, a child about ten years old.

On receiving license, Dr Stewart soon attained popularity as a preacher. In 1779, being in his twenty-eighth year, he was ordained to the pastoral charge of the parish of Strachur, Argyllshire. He died in the manse of Strachur on the 24th of May 1826, in the seventy-fifth year of his age, and the forty-seventh of his ministry. A tombstone was erected to his memory in the parochial burying-ground, by the members of the kirk-session. Possessed of superior talents, a vast fund of humour, and a delightful store of traditional information, he was much cherished by a wide circle of admiring friends. Faithful in the discharge of the public duties of his office, he was distinguished among his parishioners for his private amenities and acts of benevolence. He was the author only of one song, but this has attained much favour among the Gael.

LUINEAG--A LOVE CAROL.

No homeward scene near me, No comrade to cheer me, I cling to my dearie, And sigh till I marry. Sing ever O, and ra-ill O, Ra-ill O, Sing ever O, and ra-ill O, Was ever a May like my fairy?

My youth with the stranger,[44] Next on mountains a ranger, I pass'd--but no change, here, Will sever from Mary.

What ringlets discover Their gloss thy brows over-- Forget thee! thy lover, Ah, first shall they bury.

Thy aspect of kindness, Thy graces they bind us, And, like Feili,[45] remind us Of a heaven undreary.

Than the treasures of Spain I would toil more to gain Thy love--but my pain, Ah, 'tis cruel, my Mary!

When the shell is o'erflowing, And its dew-drops are glowing, No, never, thy snow on A slander shall tarry.

When viols are playing, And dancers are Maying, My eyes may be straying, But my soul is with Mary.

That white hand of thine Might I take into mine, Could I ever repine, Or from tenderness vary?

No, never! no, never! My troth on 't for ever, Lip to lip, I 'd deliver My being to Mary.

FOOTNOTES:

[44] Invernahyle removed with his family to Edinburgh, and became very intimate with the father of Sir Walter Scott. He seems to have made a great impression on the future poet.

[45] Festivals, saint-days.

ANGUS FLETCHER.

Angus Fletcher was born at Coirinti, a wild and romantic spot on the west bank of Loch Eck, in June 1776. His education was chiefly conducted at the parish school of Kilmodan, Glendaruel. From Glendaruel he went to Bute, in 1791, where he was variously employed till May 1804, when he was elected schoolmaster of Dunoon, his native parish. His death took place at Dunoon in 1852. The first of the two following songs was contributed anonymously to the _Weekly Journal_ newspaper, whence it was transferred by Turner into his Gaelic collection. It soon became popular in the Highlands, and the authorship came to be assigned to different individuals. Fletcher afterwards announced himself as the author, and completely established his claim. He was the author of various metrical compositions both in Gaelic and English.

THE CLACHAN OF GLENDARUEL.

Thy wily eyes, my darling, Thy graces bright, my jewel, Have grieved me since our parting At the kirk of Glendaruel.

'Twas to the Kirkton wending Bright eyes encounter'd duty, And mavis' notes were blending With the rosy cheeks of beauty.

Oh, jimpsome is her shapely waist, Her arms, her instep queenly; And her sweet parting lips are graced With rows of ivory inly.

When busy tongues are railing, Lown is her word unsaucy, And with modest grace unfailing She trips it o'er the causey.

Should royalty prefer me, Preferment none I crave, But to live a shepherd near thee, On the howes of Corrichnaive.

Would fortune crown my wishes-- The shealing of the hill, With my darling, and the rushes To couch on, were my will.

I hear, but not instruction, Though faithful lips are pleading-- I read thy eyes' perfection, On their dew of mildness feeding.

My hand is swiftly scrolling, In the courts of reverend men;[46] But, ah! my restless soul in Is triumphing my Jean.

I fear, I fear their frowning-- But though they chased me over Where Holland's flats[47] are drowning, I 'll live and die thy lover.

FOOTNOTES:

[46] The poet waxes professional. He was session-clerk and clerk-depute of presbytery.

[47] The war was raging in Holland, under the command of the Duke of York. The bard threatens to exchange the pen for the sword.

THE LASSIE OF THE GLEN.

Versified from the Gaelic Original by the Author.

Beneath a hill 'mang birken bushes, By a burnie's dimplit linn, I told my love with artless blushes To the lassie o' the glen.

Oh! the birken bank sae grassy, Hey! the burnie's dimplit linn; Dear to me 's the bonnie lassie Living in yon rashy glen!

Lanely Ruail! thy stream sae glassy Shall be aye my fav'rite theme, For on thy banks my Highland lassie First confess'd a mutual flame.

What bliss to sit, and nane to fash us, In some sweet wee bow'ry den! Or fondly stray amang the rashes, Wi' the lassie o' the glen!

And though I wander now unhappy, Far frae scenes we haunted then, I'll ne'er forget the bank sae grassy, Nor the lassie o' the glen.

GLOSSARY.

_Aboon_, above.

_Aumry_, a store-place.

_Baum_, balm.

_Beuk_, book.

_Bicker_, a drinking vessel.

_Burnie_, a small stream.

_Caller_, cool.

_Cled_, clad.

_Clud_, cloud.

_Couthy_, frank.

_Daffin'_, merry-making.

_Dighted_, wiped.

_Doit_, a small coin.

_Doitet_, dotard.

_Douf_, sad.

_Dree_, endure.

_Dwine_, dwindle.

_Fauld_, fold.

_Fleechit_, cajoled.

_Fykes_, troubles, anxieties.

_Gaed_, went.

_Gar_, compel.

_Gate_, way.

_Glour_, look earnestly.

_Grannie_, grandmother.

_Grat_, wept.

_Grit_, great.

_Haill_, whole.

_Haud_, hold, keep.

_Heuk_, reaping-hook.

_Hie_, high.

_Hinny_, honey.

_Hizzie_, _Hussy_, a thoughtless girl.

_Ken_, know.

_Knows_, knolls, hillocks.

_Laith_, loth.

_Lift_, firmament.

_Lowin'_, burning.

_Minnie_, mother.

_Parochin'_, parish.

_Pu'_, pull.

_Roos'd_, praised.

_Sabbit_, sobbed.

_Scour_, search.

_Slee_, sly.

_Speerin'_, inquiring.

_Swiggit_, swallowed.

_Syne_, then.

_Thole_, endure.

_Toom_, empty.

_Troth_, truth, vow.

_Trow_, believe.

_Tyne_, lose.

_Unco_, uncommon.

_Wag_, shake.

_Waur_, worse.

_Ween_, guess.

_Yirth_, earth.

_Yowes_, ewes.

END OF VOL. IV.

BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.