A Song to Sir James Macdonald
Having fallen asleep now long ago, it befell me that a stitch lodged in my breast; I suffer from an ache that is anguishing and painful, I shall not smother it but shall lay it bare openly; but may God uphold him and rule his ways, the one in whom is my hope with the help of the Most High, who weakened my grief, who strengthened my joy, who made me wishful to be younger than I am.
Many a blow did we here have to suffer, the yoke was on our necks and 'twas heavier than brass, as heavy as a mill-stone lying on rollers, yearning for the heroes when they have all left us; 'tis the rigour of winter which weakened us direly when we lost our chief whose peer was not among Gaels, champion of hospitality, lion of loyalty, anguish to tell it to the generation unborn.
Anguish to tell it, the anguish that has worn us out, our minds fell as low as our heels; our great esteemed chief of great honour in the kingdom, death took him from us, our mighty misfortune; Thou who sawest our hardship, who didst let the calamity upon us, be Thou a shepherd to him whom we got in his stead; send home Sir James without pain or illness to his own people — Mary! 'tis joy to obtain him.
Christ preserve for us our fair-famed shepherd, our countryside's overlord, we are concerned for him now; famous our sapling, doughty and sage, manly when aroused if kind fortune were to change; our beloved surety, rock of our bounty, our ace and our double card, and the crown on the draught-board, the oar that is not fragile, our blade in time of trouble, our chief and our hope, who would break through the goal.
In our waking or sleeping, in prayer or petition, our alms are being given for thy return home in safety; well-bred in habit thou, illustrious of fame, admirable to see on horse or on foot; our joy and our comfort, our wine on the tables, our mirth and our music thou, and our cause for good spirits; our generous champion whom God's Son granted us to establish the right and quench the wrong.
An elegant champion is the chief of Clan Donald, a humble, sedate man, not tending to pride, handsome without blemish, conspicuous in knowledge, he shall be called in conflict a terror, I warrant; courtier of gracious mien, countenance of hospitality, kindly to orphans and mindful of the (?) needy, spirited and vigorous, observant of loyalty, a warrior before thousands, were he to stretch his arm.
My love the goodly warrior, the youth of the ringleted hair; a magnificent, comely man, without blemish or reproach; hero of the banners — vengeful if threatened are they — who would turn the spark into a flame not to be quenched, who would strike the smart blow all over the field on which they descended, who would move without slackness against the enemy, with naked Spanish blades, with heavy muskets, with fine grainy powder, when starting a volley.
Though long has the stitch remained in my bosom, I will rout it out, joy will take its place; I will chase gloom away to its quarters when God sends home the one who restored my health; praise to the leech who healed my wounds, who made my spirit more hopeful than was its wont: the face of Sir James, the face of generosity, choice of all spectacles, who gave me better sight.
Face of stateliness, face of vigour, face of comeliness, pleasantness and beauty; face of manliness, face of doughtiness, the finest face that can look in a mirror; face of sedateness, face of dignity, face of the lion if given cause of offence; the youth should by right be heroic in strife, since many are the white-fisted heroes who will follow the rout thou desirest.
'Tis no pleasure to hear thy war-tune being awakened, thy banners being unfurled, sprightly and stately; a bored pipe being hitched up, steadily pounding out martial airs, while tufted heather in clusters is attached to the flagstaff; a guard of nobility is drawn up around it, manly their tradition going to win victory; stern warriors, without fear in face of lead, who would leave cold corpses motionless on the battlefield.
Many an excellent warrior, who is confident and authoritative, would join thee in time of unpeace or dispute, with their shearing Spanish blades, as hard as a razor, at time of striking skulls they would splinter bones; manly and agile, furious in battle, there would be blood on the heather ere their pride is abated, with a company unflinching, without lethargy of arm at time of baring the edges in face of the enemy.
If Sir James were seen and if he stood in need of it, from many a side would rise with thee a strong regiment, in Scotland and Ireland, readily with each other, from Cloch of rigged ships till he clear Port Patrick; the gentry of Kintyre are thy hereditary allies by reason of thine ancestors, they would go into the charge with thee without forgetfulness or fail; so keen would they be that they would despoil like ravening lions when their brood was without food.
The MacLeods would rise, they would and they ought, they would and that willingly because of acquaintance and friendship; their vast host would come briskly in order, nimble heroes they at start of battle; proving their manliness, sturdy are they at time of drawing (weapons), venomous like adders, when the field is being cleared; destructive with blades are they, prone to spill blood, ready cooks of heads and bones.
There would rise up in thy quarrel the noble men of Glengarry, 'twere no small omission to leave out the seed of Alan: men so manly, so diligent with their blades, that a film of blood would be seen on them when drawing them from the scabbard; spirited and willing, bidding they would not refuse, true steel without softening when there was work on the field; sturdy as heroes, woe to whom they set upon, their blows would try their Spanish blades to the utmost.
The men of Mull would rise with a shout if they heard, they would rise altogether dauntless and strong; 'tis hereditary ties would keep them, shoulder to elbow, they would strike blows before thou suffer insult. 'Tis painful to tell, to relate your loss — how many of the loyal people fell in Charlie's misfortune; so low are they under the heels of the Campbells, friends as faithful as ink is to paper.
Many a blow did we here have to suffer, the yoke was on our necks and 'twas heavier than brass, as heavy as a mill-stone lying on rollers, yearning for the heroes when they have all left us; 'tis the rigour of winter which weakened us direly when we lost our chief whose peer was not among Gaels, champion of hospitality, lion of loyalty, anguish to tell it to the generation unborn.
Anguish to tell it, the anguish that has worn us out, our minds fell as low as our heels; our great esteemed chief of great honour in the kingdom, death took him from us, our mighty misfortune; Thou who sawest our hardship, who didst let the calamity upon us, be Thou a shepherd to him whom we got in his stead; send home Sir James without pain or illness to his own people — Mary! 'tis joy to obtain him.
Christ preserve for us our fair-famed shepherd, our countryside's overlord, we are concerned for him now; famous our sapling, doughty and sage, manly when aroused if kind fortune were to change; our beloved surety, rock of our bounty, our ace and our double card, and the crown on the draught-board, the oar that is not fragile, our blade in time of trouble, our chief and our hope, who would break through the goal.
In our waking or sleeping, in prayer or petition, our alms are being given for thy return home in safety; well-bred in habit thou, illustrious of fame, admirable to see on horse or on foot; our joy and our comfort, our wine on the tables, our mirth and our music thou, and our cause for good spirits; our generous champion whom God's Son granted us to establish the right and quench the wrong.
An elegant champion is the chief of Clan Donald, a humble, sedate man, not tending to pride, handsome without blemish, conspicuous in knowledge, he shall be called in conflict a terror, I warrant; courtier of gracious mien, countenance of hospitality, kindly to orphans and mindful of the (?) needy, spirited and vigorous, observant of loyalty, a warrior before thousands, were he to stretch his arm.
My love the goodly warrior, the youth of the ringleted hair; a magnificent, comely man, without blemish or reproach; hero of the banners — vengeful if threatened are they — who would turn the spark into a flame not to be quenched, who would strike the smart blow all over the field on which they descended, who would move without slackness against the enemy, with naked Spanish blades, with heavy muskets, with fine grainy powder, when starting a volley.
Though long has the stitch remained in my bosom, I will rout it out, joy will take its place; I will chase gloom away to its quarters when God sends home the one who restored my health; praise to the leech who healed my wounds, who made my spirit more hopeful than was its wont: the face of Sir James, the face of generosity, choice of all spectacles, who gave me better sight.
Face of stateliness, face of vigour, face of comeliness, pleasantness and beauty; face of manliness, face of doughtiness, the finest face that can look in a mirror; face of sedateness, face of dignity, face of the lion if given cause of offence; the youth should by right be heroic in strife, since many are the white-fisted heroes who will follow the rout thou desirest.
'Tis no pleasure to hear thy war-tune being awakened, thy banners being unfurled, sprightly and stately; a bored pipe being hitched up, steadily pounding out martial airs, while tufted heather in clusters is attached to the flagstaff; a guard of nobility is drawn up around it, manly their tradition going to win victory; stern warriors, without fear in face of lead, who would leave cold corpses motionless on the battlefield.
Many an excellent warrior, who is confident and authoritative, would join thee in time of unpeace or dispute, with their shearing Spanish blades, as hard as a razor, at time of striking skulls they would splinter bones; manly and agile, furious in battle, there would be blood on the heather ere their pride is abated, with a company unflinching, without lethargy of arm at time of baring the edges in face of the enemy.
If Sir James were seen and if he stood in need of it, from many a side would rise with thee a strong regiment, in Scotland and Ireland, readily with each other, from Cloch of rigged ships till he clear Port Patrick; the gentry of Kintyre are thy hereditary allies by reason of thine ancestors, they would go into the charge with thee without forgetfulness or fail; so keen would they be that they would despoil like ravening lions when their brood was without food.
The MacLeods would rise, they would and they ought, they would and that willingly because of acquaintance and friendship; their vast host would come briskly in order, nimble heroes they at start of battle; proving their manliness, sturdy are they at time of drawing (weapons), venomous like adders, when the field is being cleared; destructive with blades are they, prone to spill blood, ready cooks of heads and bones.
There would rise up in thy quarrel the noble men of Glengarry, 'twere no small omission to leave out the seed of Alan: men so manly, so diligent with their blades, that a film of blood would be seen on them when drawing them from the scabbard; spirited and willing, bidding they would not refuse, true steel without softening when there was work on the field; sturdy as heroes, woe to whom they set upon, their blows would try their Spanish blades to the utmost.
The men of Mull would rise with a shout if they heard, they would rise altogether dauntless and strong; 'tis hereditary ties would keep them, shoulder to elbow, they would strike blows before thou suffer insult. 'Tis painful to tell, to relate your loss — how many of the loyal people fell in Charlie's misfortune; so low are they under the heels of the Campbells, friends as faithful as ink is to paper.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.