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And alongside it may be placed " Moladh na
Piobat le Fear na Ceapaich."
'S raairg a dhi-mhol ceòl is caismeachd,
Brosnadh slòigh gu gaisge tlirein
Mòr-phìob leis an dùisgear gach misneach,
A torman moid is misde beum.
Mo gliaol olàrsach, ro-ghaol piob leam,
Miothlachd leam an ti do chain ;
\S olc an duais da ceòl droch chomain,
'M bounaibh chluas aig oUamh ri dan.
Cha bhi mi di-moladh an dàin,
Acb 'sann 'bu mhath an dan 's an t-sith,
An nàmhaid cha deachaidh an dan
Riamh cho dan 's a chaidh a' phiob.
Na'm faiceadh tu fir air an leirg
'Fo mheirghe 'am bi dearg is ban,
B' fheàrr leam spealtadh dhi ri uair
Na na bheil gu tuam de dhàin.
Bu bhinn leam torman a dos,
'S i 'cruinneaohadh airm fo sgiort ;
An dan nan tigeadh fo 'brat
Gu ceart gu'm b' fheàrr leatli' bhi 'n lort.
'Bhean bhinn-fhaclach nach breun sturt,
Chiiiin, cliiùin-fhaclach 's mòr bhreug sin,
'Labfiras gu sùimh air gach magh,
'S a breid air sleinneinibh a fir.
SONG TO CATHERINE OF KEPPOCH.
The following stanzas are from a long song
composed by Lachlau MacPherson of Strathmashie.
The subject of them is " Caitir Bhàn,"
or Fair Catherine, evidently Catherine, daughter
of Gilleasbuig XIV. chief of Keppoch,t and
sister to Silis the poetess, whom he afterwards
married. The poet tells how deeply he himself is
in love with her. She has among her admirers
Mr Duncan, the minister of the parish, and his
assistant, Mr Martin. The former rests his hope
of being the successful suitor on account of his
professional position as superior in office, the
latter on his personal appearance. A keen contention
having arisen between the clerical rivals
as to which of them has the better claim to the
hand and heart of the fair Catherine, the poet
happening to come the way at the time promises
that unless another suitor', who is for the present
beyond the seas, returns home, she will never be
taken from them. He accounts for the great
admiration in which Catherine is held by
descriljing her several accomjalishments and
uncommon personal attractions.
i Celtic Magazine for 1879, p. 317.
Mìlefàilt air Caitir Bhàn !
Am bheil thu 'd shlàint a' mairsinn ?
O'n a dh'fhàg mi thu air àiridti
Ann an Gleann na Pataig ;
Riamh o'n la sin, ged bu nàr e,
Cha robh càileachd agam,
Cha'n fhaigliinn cadal no pràmh
Gun thu 'bhi teann 'am glacaibh
'S tu 'thog an aimhreit ann mo cheann
A chuir air chall an t-acras,
Cha'n' eil raeadhail dhomh ach gann
O'n a theann mo bheachd ort
Cha'n'eil leirsinn, cha'n'eil geireid,
Cha'n'eil feum no taic annam,
'S ged bhiodh agam spionnadh cheud
Gu'n chuir m > speis dhuit as da.
'S mòr an sàrachadh mar tha mi
Anns gach la air m' aiseag,
Tuirseach troin, 's nio chridhe fas,
Ag iarraidh blàthais air Caitir,
'S mòr taic do chàirdeas fein a mhàn
Mo shlàinte air a h-ais dhomh,
Cha leighis sagart mi no papa,
Ged robh gràsan aca.
'S lughaid a tha dhomsa nàire
Gràdh a thoirt do Chaitir
'8 na daoine 's cràbhaich' anns a' bhràighe
cheann ràidhe glact' aic'
'8 mòr an call 's an seòrs' a th' ann
Mur dean iad sam]iuill cheart dhuinn,
'S gur iad a chàirich air an ceann
Na chuir fo cheannsal peacadh.
Maighstir Donnclia 's Maighstir Mairtin
Air an saradh aioe,
Chosdadh fear dhiubh searmon Ghàelig
Ri aon ghàir 'thoirt aisde ;
Thuirt Maighstir Mairtin, '"8 tusa 's gràinnde
'8 i mo làmh-s' a ghlacar" ;
Thuirt Maighstir Donnach, "Tha thusa n.eallta,
'8 mise 's àirde facal."
Mebir a 's grinne, lànih a 's gile,
Nach bi milleadh anairt,
A siosar daor 's a snàthad chaol
Ni 'n grèim nach sgaoil air chabhaig ;
Thug Nàdur caoin gach gibht mhaith saor,
Tha 'm faolum ud barraicht',
Cha'n'eil barr aobhachd, caoimhneis,daonnachd,
Ann an aoraibh aingil.
There are other six verses equally good, and
another long song by the same author of 64 lines
to his lady-love, and though he does not mention
Catherine by name, it was probably composed to
the same individual. He imagines the condition
of the man who could call her his own would be
truly enviable. If he were that man he would be
careful to behave in such a manner as would be
worthy of her, and confesses that any description he
can give of her and her excellent qualities is
altogether inadequate.
§ Celtic Magazine, 1879. p. 116.
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