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Cumha Le Lochial
(An uair a chunnaic e a chaisteal air a losgadh
leis na saighdearan-dearga, "Bliadhna Thèarlaich")
by Mary Cameron Mackellar
1860

ENGLISH

Must I, the Lord of all those hills,
A weary, exiled wanderer roam,
And quietly view thy ruined walls,
My own, my loved ancestral home.

The red-coats burned thy lofty dome,
Home by a thousand ties made dear,
How glad from war or chase I've come,
In thee my heart to rest and cheer.

When peace did her white banner rear,
And loving vassal and his lord
Went forth to hunt the roe and deer,
And turned to grace the festal board.

The blood-red wine in plenty poured,
And pibrochs told of battles won,
While "Senachie" would with pride record
The mighty deeds our sires had done.

Till martial fire in sire and son
Would burst into one glowing flame,
Whilst vows were breathed by every one,
He'd ne'er disgrace the Cameron name.

When time to raise our banner came,
And fiery cross had fleetly sped
To call the brave to fields of fame,
'Twas aye to victory we led.

The Southron foe our name did dread,
Though now Culloden's palm they bear,
They in their own pale blood might tread,
Had all our gallant clans been there.

Come shade of Bruce, my vigil share,
Come o'er ungraceful Scotland, mourn,
She hath disowned thy rightful heir,
Indignant fire, my heart doth burn.

To wear a foreign yoke I'd spurn,
Nor 'ganst my lawful king rebel,
That crown and sceptre's from him torn,
For mercy's cause, they're fain to tell.

In Dutch or Guelph doth mercy dewll,
Ye gallant heroes of Glencoe,
Arise in gory shrouds, and tell
Your mournful tale of dool and woe.

And rise, ye brave, whose blood did flow
On dark Culloden's dreary moor,
And tell how when ye were laid low,
That "Butcher's" hand did stab ye o'er.

Oh hush!  my heart, and grieve no more,
This is no time to sit and rest,
I'll hie me to a foreign shore,
And long to get thy wrongs redressed.

Sweet home, within thee every breast,
Did glow with love and purity,
And round thy hearth the stranger guest,
Met kindest hospitality.

And though I roam beyond the sea,
I'll ne'er forget the golden hours,
When I had ruled - a chieftain free,
'Mong Achnacarry's fairy bowers.

'Tis gore bedews the drooping flowers,
That now bedecks each dappled dell
Around thy ruined ancient towers,
Home of my heart, farewell, farewell!

Now Luna's lamp lights up the glen,
And I must hide from watchful foes,
I'll hie to where my Prince has lain,
In balmy sleep to drown his woes.

GAELIC

An iginn dhmhsa, Triath nam beann,
'Bhi'm fhgrach fann air feadh nan stc,
'S gu tosdach sealltainn ort 's do cheann,
A thalla aosda anns an ir!

Loisg na Dearganaich gu lr
Gach baideal rd de'n dachaidh ghaoil,
'S an tric a fhuair mi fois 'us bls,
Air tilleadh dhomh bho r nan laoch.

'N uair 'thogadh sth a bratach suas
'S a bhithinn-sa le m' thuath-cheathairn' fhin
Tigh'nn luchdaichte gu tr nam buadh
Bho'n chreachann fhuar 's am biodh na fidh.

Bu phailt am fon 's bhiodh pob air ghlus,
"S i caithreamach mu'r n-uchd 's a' bhlr;
'S trath 'bheireadh seanchaidh greis air sgul,
Mu ghnomhannan nan trun a bh.

Bhiodh crdh' gach cuiridh laist' na 'chm,
'S e ann am fonn gu 'bhi 's an r;
Gach Camshronach 's a bhid gu trm
Gu 'ainm 'bhi measg nan sonn 's an dn.

'N uair thogainn-sa mo shrl a suas
'S crois-traidh le luas na gaoith',
Ga'n tional gu toiteal nan tuagh,
'S ann riabh gu buaidh a thriall na laoich.

Bha uamhunn air na Goill romh'n ainm,
Ged tha 'n diugh pailm Chuil-fhodair ac'.
'S i'm bn-fhuil fhin bhiodh fo na buinn,
Na'm biodh ar suinn gu lir na'r taic'.

A thaibhse Bhruce dean faire leam,
'Us sileamaid ar deir le chil'
Chuir d'Albainn fhin an diugh air chl
Oighre do chrin 's mr am bud!

Ceannairc na 'aghaidh cha dian m,
'S do choigreach mar rgh cha lb;
'An aobhar trcair their iad rium,
Thug iad bho m' Phrionnsa gaoil a chrn.

'An Ditsich no'n Guelphich an d'fhuair
Trcair no truacantas tmh? -
Na d'ollainnich fhuiltich bho'n uaigh,
'Ghlinn-Comhann, luaidh dhuinn sgul do chridh.

'Us ireadh sbhs', a laocha mr
A thuit 'an "Cuil-fhodair" nan cruchd;
'Us nnsibh 'n uair a laidh sibh leint',
Mar rinn an "C" ur feil a rub'.

Bi'd thosd, mo chrdh', 'us sguir a d'thurs'
Cha'n m gu tuireadh so no tmh;
Mo chreach mo lmh 'bhi'n diugh gun ls
Gu doghladh air son luchd mo ghridh.

A dhachaidh igh 'bu ln de ghaol
Gach broilleach caomh 'ad thaobh a's teach;
'S mu'n cuairt do d'theallaich gheabhteadh faoilt',
Leis an aoighe aimbeartach.

Ged 'bhios mi'm fhgrach thall thair chuan,
Cha tid m' chuimhn' na h-uairean ir,
A chaith mi 'measg do thulman uain',
O, 'Ach'-na-carraigh, 'm uachdran sligh.

A nis tha lchran samh na h-oidhch',
A' boillsgeadh ort, a Ghlnn mo chrdh';
'S gur h-iginn triall mu'n toir i soills'
Do dhaoidhearan a th'air mo th.

Triallaidh mi gu gleann an fhraoich
'S am beil Prionns' mo ghaoil a' tmh;
Fo cheangal ciin a chadail chaoin,
Ni tamull beag e saor bho chrdh.