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Our most direct link to the heart of our Gaelic-speaking ancestors, both Scots and Irish, is in the songs passed down through the ages. The poetry of the Gaels, travelling in bardic memory, old manuscripts, and now in modern recordings, still carry their haunting power and we are fortunate that throughout the years of oppression and destruction so many of these works have survived. The true voice of the Gael can be heard in their poetry. Because of the resurgent popularity of Celtic music, the poems as well as the Gaelic language have enjoyed a new interest with modern audiences. What follows is a list of some of my favorites works, in Gaelic and in English whenever possible, with additional notes wherever possible of current recordings. Starting though with some very old examples of the bardic style... |
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A Chlanna Cuinn, cuimhnichibh Cruas an am na h-iorghaile: Gu h-àirneach, gu h-arranta, Gu h-athlamg, gu h-allanta, Gu beódha, gu barramhail, Gu bríoghmhor, gu buan-fheargach, Gu calma, gu curanta, Gu cródha, gu cath-bhuadhach, Gu dùr is gu dàsannach, Gu dian is gu deagh-fhulang, Gu h-éasgaidh, gu h-eaghnamhach, Gu h-éidith, gu h-eireachdail, Gu fortail, gu furachail, Gu frithir, gu forniata, Gu gruamach, gu gràineamhail, Gu gleusta, gu gaisgeamhail, Gu h-ullamh, gu h-inntinneach, Gu h-iomdha, gu h-iomghonach, Gu Iaomsgar, gu làn-ath lamh, Gu làidir, gu luath-bhuileach, Gu mearghanta, gu mór-chneadhach, Gu meanmnach, gu mileanta, Gu neimhneach, gu naimhdeamhail, Gu niatach, gu neimh-eaglach, Gu h-obann, gu hu-olla-ghníomhach, Gu h-oirdheirc, gu h-oirheartach, Gu prap is gu príomh-ullamh, Gu prosta, gu prionnsamhail, Gu ruaimneach, gu ro-dhàna, Gu ro-bhorb, gu ríoghamhail, Gu sanntach, gu séanamhail, Gu socair, gu sàr-bhuailteach, Gu teannta, gu togarrach, Gu talcmhor, gu traigh-éasgaidh, Gu h-urlamh, gu h-ùr-mhaiseach, Do chosnadh na cath-làthrach, Re bronnaibh bhar biodhbhadha, A Chlanna Cuinn Céad-chathaich, A nois uair bhar n-aitheanta, A chuileanan confadhach, A bheithrichean Bunanta, A leómhannan là-ghasta, A on chonaibh iorghaileach, Chaoiribh chródha, churanta, De Chlanna Cuinn Céad-chathaich, A Chlanna Cuinn, cuimhnichibh Cruas an am na h-iorghaile. |
O Children of Conn, remember Hardihood in time of battle: Be watchful, daring, Be dextrous, winning renown, Be vigorous, pre-eminent, Be strong, brave, Be valiant, triumphant, Be resolute, fierce, Be forceful and stand your ground, Be nimble, valourous, Be well-equipped, handsomely accoutred, Be dominant, watchful, Be fervid, pugnacious, Be dour, inspiring fear, Be ready for action, warrior-like, Be prompt, war-like, Be exceedingly fierce, recklessly daring, Be prepared, willing, Be numerous, giving battle, Be fiery, fully-ready, Be strong, dealing swift blows, Be spirited, inflicting great wounds, Be stout-hearted, martial, Be venomous, implacable, Be warrior-like, fearless, Be swift, performing great deads, Be glorious, nobly powerful, Be rapid (in movement), very quick, Be valiant, princely, Be acting, exceedingly bold, Be ready, fresh and comely, Be exceedingly fierce, king-like, Be eager, be successful, Be unflurried, striking excellent blows, Be compact (in your ranks), elated, Be vigorous, nimble-footed, In winning the battle against your enemies. O Children of Conn of the Hundred Battles. Now is the time for you to win recognition, O raging whelps, O sturdy heroes, O most sprightly lions, O battle-loving warriors, O brave, heroic firebrands, The Children of Conn of the Hundred Battles, O Children of Conn, remember Hardihood in time of battle. |
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Ní h-ébhneas gan Clainn Domhnaill, ní comhnairt bheith 'ne n-éaghmais; and chlann dob fhearr san gcruinne: gur dhíobh gach duine céatach. Uaithne àna Alban uaine, clann as cruaidhe ghabh bhaisteadh; 'gà roibh treas gacha tíre, seabhaig Ile as ghaisgeach. |
It is no joy without Clan Donald, it is no strength to be without them; the best race in the round world: to them belongs every goodly man. Brilliant pillars of green Alba, a race the hardiest that received baptism; a race who won fight in every land, hawks of Islay for valour. |
| Of the traditional songs that follow, some can be found on modern recordings and those have been so noted. Translations may not follow the Gaelic exactly and in some places no ready translation was at hand. |
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Dh' iadh ceó nan stùc mu eudann Chuilinn, Us sheinn 'bhean-shíth a torman mulaid, Gorm shùilean ciùin 'san Dùn a sileadh, O'n thriall thu uainn 's nach till thu tuille. Cha till, cha till, cha till Mac Criomain, An cogadh no síth cha till e tuille; Le airgiod no ní cha till Mac Criomain, Cha till e gu bràth gu là na cruinne. Tha osag nam beann gu fann ag imeachd, Gach sruthan 's gach allt gu mall le bruthach; Tha ealtainn nan speur feadh gheugan dubhach, A' caoidh gu 'n d'fhalbh 's nach till thu tuille. |
On Cuilinn's peak, the mist is sailing, The banshee croons a note of wailing; Blue eyes in Duin wi' sorrow are streaming, For him that shall never return -- MacCrimmon. No more, no more, no more forever In war or peace shall return MacCrimmon; No more, no more, no more forever Shall gold or love bring back MacCrimmon. The breeze on the brae is mournfully blowing The brook in the hollow is plaintively flowing Where boughs their darkest shades are throwing Birds mourn for him that is never returning. |
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Tearlach óg gu'n d'fhalbh e uainn, Téaruint thall thar uchd a' chuain, 'S líonbhor cridhe brist' a bhios, Mur a till e ruinn a rís. O, nach till thu ruinn a rís, O, nach till thu ruinn a rís, Gaol na's blàthe chaoidh cha bhi, Na gaol nan Gaidheal dhutsa, rígh. |
Bonnie Charlie's gang awa', Safely o'er the friendly Main, Many a heart will break in twa, Should he ne'er come back again. Will ye no come back again? Will ye no come back again? Better loved ye canna be. Will ye no come back again? |
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Coisich, a rùin, hù il oro cum do ghealladh rium, o hi ibh o; beir soriadh bhuam, hù il oro dha na Hearadh, boch orainn o. Beir soriadh bhuam, hù il oro dha na Hearadh, o hi ibh o; gu Seon Caimbeul, hù il oro donn my leannan, boch orainn o. Gu Seon Caimbeul, hù il oro donn my leannan, o hi ibh o; sealgair geòidh, hù il oro ròin is eala, boch orainn o. Sealgair geòidh, hù il oro ròin is eala, o hi ibh o; bhric a nì leum, hù il oro 'n fhèidh ri langan, boch orainn o. 'S fliuch an oidhche, hù il oro nochd 's gur fuar i, o hi ibh o; ma thug Clann Nìll, hù il oro druim a' chuain orr', boch orainn o. Ma thug Clann Nìll, hù il oro druim a' chuain orr', o hi ibh o; luchd nan seòl àrd, hù il oro 's nan long luatha, boch orainn o. Luchd nan seòl àrd, hù il oro 's nan long luatha, o hi ibh o; 's nam brataichean, hù il oro gorm is uaine, boch orainn o. 'S nam brataichean, hù il oro gorm is uaine, o hi ibh o; cha b'fhear cearraig, hù il oro bheireadh bhuat i, boch orainn o. |
Come on, my love -- keep your promise to me -- take greetings from me -- over to Harris -- Take greetings from me over to Harris to John Campbell my brown-haired sweetheart To John Campbell my brown-haired sweetheart hunter of goose seal and swan Hunter of goose seal and swan leaping trout of bellowing deer Wet is the night tonight, and cold If the MacNeills have put to sea If the MacNeills have put to sea men of high sails and swift ships Men of high sails and swift ships and of banners blue and green And of banners blue and green no left-hander could take her rudder from you. |
From Delirium by Capercaille, Green Linnet Records, Inc.
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Och, ochan a Rígh gura tinn an galair an gràdh! Chan eil neach air am bí nach saoil gura seach dainn gach là, Gun bhrist e mo chridh 's gun sgaoil e cuislean mo shlàint Bhith 'g amharc ad dhéidh, a gheug a' bhrollaich ghil bhàin, ghil bhàin. A bhuachaille bhàin, ma's àil leat labhairt air fhís, Gura leatsa gun dàil, mo làmh, ma thíg thu rinn dlùth: Gur truagh mar atà, nach d'fhàrlaidh mis' agus thu An eilein gun tràigh, gun ràmh, dun choite, gun stùir, gun stùir. Na faicaidh dibh geug, 's i 'g eirigh maduinn chùin cheó, Le fearsa dha reir, ni ceudan mhealladh 'nan dóigh: Gur binne do bheul na teudan fhidheall ri ceól, 'S nach truagh leàt mi 'd dheidh leam ghein air cnocan ri brón, ri brón. |
Alas, what a deadly sickness is love There is no one who suffers it but feels every day is a week It has broken my heart and sapped the strings of my health To keep gazing after you, young man of the fair white breast. Fair-haired lad, if you but care to speak first My heart shall be yours without delay if you come for me Pity it is that you and I did not find ourselves On an island with no ebb, with no oar, no boat, no rudder. If you could see such a shoot springing up on a calm misty morning With looks to go with it fit to win the hearts of thousands Your voice is sweeter than the strings of violins playing Can you not take pity on me, left alone without you, lamenting on the knoll? |
From Crosswinds by Capercaille, Green Linnet Records, Inc.
Téir abhaile riùIs cuma cé dhein é nó nà dheain Is cuma cé dhein é Mhary Is cuma cé dhein é nó nà dheain mar Tà do mhargadh déanta. Pós an piobaire Pós an piobaire Mhary Pós an piobaire dtùs na hoiche Is beidh sé agat ar maidin Níl mo mhargadh Tà do mhargadh Níl mo mhargadh déanta Tà do mhargadh Níl mo mhargadh Tà do mhargadh déanta |
Come home, darling,It doesn't matter if it is or not, It doesn't matter, Mary, It doesn't matter if it is or not, Your deal is made. Marry the piper, Marry the piper, Marry the piper, and he'll be yours in the morning. My deal is not made, Your deal is made. My deal is not made. Your deal is made, My deal is not made, Your deal is made. |
From Clannad 2 by Clannad, Gael-Linn Records
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Dheanainn sùgradh ris an nigh'n dubh 'n deidh dhomh éirigh as a 'mhadainn Dheanainn sùgradh ris an nigh'n dubh Dheanainn sùgradh ris a' ghruagaich nuair a bhiodh a' sluagh nan cadal Dheanainn sùgradh an am dùsgadh 'n am na siùil a bhith 'gham pasgadh Di-Luain an déigh Di-Domhnaich dh'fhalbh sinn le Seónaid a Arcaibh Bha muir gorm a'ruith fo cuinnlein 's i cur still a grunnd an aigeil Riof 'gha ceangal's riof 'gha fuasgladh muir ma guallain fuaim is fead oirr Null ma Chaolas na Róimh b'fheudar dhuinn am bóm a leaiseadh Null ma Chaolas na Fraing maide 'na làimh 's goath 'gha greasad Cha robh ropa feum a spleiadhsadh air mo mhaighdeann ri tigh'n dhachaidh Dh'fheumadh pórsan thigh'n a bùth dhith ged a bhiodh a crùn an cairteal Ged a bhiodh a crùn an óirleach dh'fheumadh pórsan dheth thigh'n dhachaidh |
I played with the black haired maiden, in the morning when I woke, I played with the black haired maiden. I played with the young virgin, when the others were still asleep. I played when we awoke, When the sails were unfurled. On Monday, after the day of our Lord, We left the Orkneys on the Seanaid. The green billows rolled over her prow, How she fought the cavern of the waves. Dancing between reefs, eluding sand bars, She plowed through the sea, battering her sides. We had to chain ourselves to the door, Before the straits of Rome. We outsailed the French Pass, Led by the winds, tiller firmly in hand. But we kept not one rope, On board for the road of return. |
From Clannad 2 by Clannad, Gael-Linn Records;
translation by Katy Benjamin, from Journee à la Maison by Alan Stivell, Rounder Records.
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