r2vyln3rdioj14u-rld0ska where mountains meet the sea: Cuimhneachan

Cuimhneachan

Do na daoine foghlumaichte a shaothrach gus a Ghàidhlig a ghleidheadh beò

(1) Gur dlùth mo smaoin
Air na laoich bu ghaisgeile
A rinn bhuainn aomadh
An taobh nach faicear leinn;
A chosg an tìde,
Gun suim de bheartas,
Ach a dh’fhàg an inntinn
Mar dhìleib againne.

(2) Gu balbh ’s an uaigh
Is ged is fuar an leabaidh i,
Cha d’thug i buaidh
Air na h-uasail ghaisgeil ud:
Tha guth am buadhaibh
’S na cluasan againne
Cho binne ’ga luaidh
’S a bha nuair ’s an d’abradh e.

(3) B’ e rìgh na còisir
An Leòdach tighearnail
Tha nis’ mar lòchran
A’ seòladh slighe dhuinn;
An Tormod òg thu,
Mac còir an Sgitheanaich :
Tha cainnt a bheòil
A’ toirt sòlas cridhe dhuinn.

(4) ’S an eilein riabhach
Mun iadh na cladaichean,
Bha Mac Dhunléibhe
Is bu treun an gaisgeach e;
Bidh cuimhne bhlàth air
Mar bhàrd is mar eachdraiche;
Ged thugadh pràmh air
Le smàig nan Sasunnach.

(5) ’S an eilein Ìleach,
Mas cuimhne cheart e leam,
Bha ’n sgoilear grinn
A thug dhuinn am faclair;
Bu mhath an nì
Ri mo linn, nan tachradh e,
Gun drei’dh clach chuimhne
Bho’s cinn an Ailpeinich.

(6) Tha fear ’s an àireamh
Is cha b’àite ’n deireadh dha,
Is a dh’fheumas dealradh
Gu bràth nar n-eileamaid;
A dh’oidich Sàr Obair
Chinn air bardaibh:
Mac Coinnich Ghearrloch,
An Gàidheal eireachdail.

(7) Bha ’n t-Ollamh Stiùbhart
Air thùs nan gaisgeach sin,
A thug dhuinn pùngar
Is gur mùirneach againn e
Le facail shùbailt
Nam buadhar lùthaidh
Is nan gnìomhar ionnsaicht’,
Mo rùn am Peartach ud.

(8) Rinn Collach suairce
Le bhuadhaibh fiosrachail
Dhuinn moran buannachd
Feadh chluan ar litreachais;
Is chuir fearaibh uasal
A chinnidh uaimhrich
Le caithream suas da
Clach shuain mar thigeadh dha.

(9) A dh’aindeoin ceilg
Agus feirg nan Sasunnach,
Cha d’chuir iad balbh
Air an t-seirbhis ghaisgeil ud;
Bha uaislean calm’ ann
Nach d’ thug mi ’n ainm dhuibh
Bha ’n t-Ollamh Foirbeis
Is Professor Blackie ann.

(10) Mac Mhuirich tàireil:
Chan àgh a ghuidhir dha;
’S e ’ghaol air Mammon
A dh’àraich bruidhinn air;
Tha iad ag ràdha –
Mu[n] d’ fhuair e fàbhar –
Tha ’n leabhar cearr ris
’S a bhàrdachd guidheachan.

(11) Is beag an t-ioghnadh,
Is an aois a laighe orm,
Ged re’adh mo smaoin
Thun an taobh a chaidh iad;
Ach ’s fearr bhith éibhneach
’S an t-saoghal mhathasach
Is sgur de’n caoidh
Is na saoidh am flathanas.

(12) Mhic-Talla chairdeil
Nach àicheadh bruidhinn rium
Ged fhuair roimh Àdhamh
’S gach àird, do thighearnas;
Gur òg a bha mi
Mu d’ thaigh a’ mànran
Is tu seinn nan dàn leam
An Gàidhlig Sgitheanach.

Aonghas MacAoidh, from Mac-Talla (6 March 1897 No. 35, p. 8)

A Memorial 

To the learned people who endeavoured to keep Gaelic alive
 
(1) My thoughts are firmly
On those most heroic leaders
Who have left this world
For the side we cannot see;
Who spent their time
Without any financial reward
But who left their intellect
As a heritage for us.
 
(2) There is silence in the grave,
And though it is a cold bed,
It did not achieve victory
Over those noble warriors:
The voice of their talents
Are in our ears
As sweet to rehearse
As when it was first spoken.

(3) The king of the choir
Is the lordly MacLeod
Who is now like a torch
Showing us the way;
You are the young Norman,
Goodly young son of the Skyeman:
What he says
Gives us solace of heart.

(4) In the dappled island,
Which is surrounded by seashore,
Was Livingston,
And a mighty hero was he;
He will be warmly remembered,
As a poet and as an historian;
Although he was oppressed
By the tyranny of the English.

(5) In the Island of Islay,
If I remember correctly,
Was the elegant scholar
Who gave us the dictionary;
It would be a good thing
If it were to happen in my lifetime
For a memorial to go
Above the MacAlpine man.

(6) There is a man in this company,
And he should not be in last place,
And he needs to be highlighted
Forever amongst us;
He fostered excellent work
That nurtured our poets:
MacKenzie of Gairloch
The handsome Highlander.

(7) Professor Stewart
Was in the vanguard of those heroes,
He gave us a grammar
And we have it joyfully,
With flexible vocabulary
Of the vigorous adjectives
And of the learned verbs –
The Perthshire man is my hero.

(8) The man of Coll
With his learned talents
Has given us many rewards
Though out the field of our literature;
And noble men
Of his proud lineage
With celebration erected for him
A gravestone as becomes him.

(9) Despite the treachery
And the anger of the English,
They did not make mute
That heroic service;
There were strong leaders there
Whose names I haven’t given you yet –
Professor Forbes was there,
And Professor Blackie.

(10) Shameful Macpherson:
His wish was not for its prosperity;
It was his lust for Mammon
Which caused him to speak out;
They say –
Before he found favour –
That the book is false to him
And (there are) curses in his poetry.

(11) It is little wonder
With old age heavily on me,
That my thoughts have gone
In a certain direction;
But it is better to be merry
In the bountiful world,
And to desist from crying,
While the elect are in Heaven.

(12) O kindly Mac-Talla,
Who would not reject my conversation,
Although every location
Before Adam was under your power;
In the days of my youth
I was murmuring around your house
As you sang the poems with me
In the Gaelic of Skye.

trans. by Michael Newton, from Celtic Poets of North America (more about the poem there)

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