Gur muladach a tà mi,

'S mi nochd air àird a' chuain; 'S neo-shunndach mo chadal dhomh, 'S do chaidreamh fada bhuam; Gur tric mi ort a' smaointeach', As t'aogais tha mi truagh ; Is mur a dean mi t'fhaotainn, Cha bhi mo shaoghal buan.

Súil chorrach mar an dearcag
Fo'n rosg a dh' iathas dlùth ;
Gruaidhean mar na caorann

Fo'n aodann tha leam ciùin ;
Mur d'aithris iad na breugan
Gu'n d'thug mi féin duit rùn,
'S gur bliadhna leam gach latha
Bho 'n uair a dh' fhàg mi thu.

Tacan mu'n do sheòl sinn,
Is ann a thòisich càch
Ri innseadh do mo chruinneig-sa
Nach tillinn-sa gu bràth;
Na cuireadh sud ort gruaimean,
A luaidh, ma bhios mi slàn,
Cha chum dad idir uait mi

Ach saighead chruaidh a' bhàis.

Tha'n t-snaim a nise ceangailte,
Gu daingeann is gu teann;
'S e their luchd na fanaid rium
Nach eil mo phrothaid ann ;
Am fear aig am bheil fortan,
Tha crois aige 'na cheann ;
'S tha mise taingeil, toilichte,

Ged tha mo sporan gann.

My heart is torn with anguish
This night upon the sea,
And restless are my slumbers
Since far away from thee.
How oft my thoughts entwine thee,
Though absent from my view!
And if I may not claim thee,
My days shall be but few.

Beneath thy pencilled eyebrows
Are eyes like berries blue;
Thy cheeks are like the rowans
Öf red and ripest hue;

I will confess with gladness
That I this maid adore;
Each day has seemed a year
Since we parted on the shore.

A while before we parted
They sought to grieve thee sore,
And said unto my maiden

I should return no more.
Heed not their cruel slander;
My love, if naught betide,
I'll come again to see thee,
And claim thee for my bride.

The knot is tied securely

That binds me to my dear,
Though mocking foes are saying
'Twill bring me little gear.
The man who weds a fortune
Its cross has oft to bear,
So I am quite contented
Although my purse be spare.

SUAS LEIS A' GHAIDHLIG!

LE DONNACHADH MAC ILLE-RUAIDH.

SEIS:-Togaibh i, togaibh i, cànain ar dùthcha;
Togaibh a suas i gu h-inmhe ro chliùiteach;
Togaibh gu daingeann i, 's bithibh rith bàigheil;
Hi ho-ro, togaibh i; Suas leis a' Ghàidhlig !

'Si cànain na h-òige, b' i cànain na h-aois,
B'i cànain ar sìnnsir, b' i cànain an gaoil;

'S ged tha i nis aosd, tha i reachdmhor is treun ;
Cha do chaill i a clìth 's cha do strìochd i fo bheum.

Tha mòr-shruth na Beurla a' bagradh gu cruaidh
Ar cànain 's ar dùthchas a shlugadh a suas ;

Ach seasamaid dìleas ri cànain ar gaoil,

Is cha'n fhaigh i am bàs gu ruig deireadh an t-saoghail.

A Chlanna nan Gàidheal, bithibh seasmhach is dlùth;
Ri guaillibh a chéile a' cosnadh gach cliù,

O! seasaibh gu dìleas ri cànain ur gràidh,

'S na trèigibh a' Ghàidhlig a nis no gu bràth.

O! togaibh a bratach gu h-àrd anns an tìr ;

'S biodh litrichean maireannach sgrìobht' air gach crìdh— Cha tréig sinn a' Ghàidhlig, cha tréig sinn r' ar beò

Cànain mhuirneach ar dùthch', gus an caill sinn an deò.

GAELIC RALLYING SONG.

CHORUS :--Steadily, steadily, rise in your glory;
Bear up your banner so famous in story;

Rally around it from distant and nighlands,
Long live our Gaelic; Hurrah for the High-
lands:

The flood-gate of English is open full wide,
And threatens our Gaelic to drown in its tide;
But we will stand true to the tongue we adore,
And never forsake it till Time is no more.

Ye sons of the Highlands, your swords wave on high,
And shoulder to shoulder, we'll conquer or die;
"A suas leis a' Ghàidhlig our slogan shall be,
Now forward, my comrades, ye sons of the free.

Now bear up your banner full high in the breeze,
And here let us vow, as we bend on our knees,

We ne'er shall desert the dear tongue of the brave
Till, sleeping in death, we are laid in the grave.

A' CHOINNEAMH.

Rannan do Mhairearad Nic Ruiseirt nighean òg a bha chòmhnuidh ann am Fas. Bha i anabarrach cliùiteach air son a bhi diadhaidh, ged a bha i air a meas lag ann am buadhan na h-inntinn. Bhiodh i tric ag innseadh d'a càirdean gu'm biodh aice ri coinneamh a chumail ris na h-ainglean air mullach nam beanntan, is bhiodh i mar so a' toirt làithean air falbh bho a dachaidh. Mu dheireadh dh' fhalbh i mar a b' àbhaist dhi agus an ceann na huiread làithean fhuaireas marbh i air mullach Sith-chaillionn. Tha mu thimcheall lethcheud bliadhna o’na thachair

SO.

Nuair bha'm feasgar fada, fann,

'Dùnadh stigh air srath is gleann, Agus trusgan ciar na h-oidhch'

'G iathadh dlùth air àird nam beann,

Thuirt a' mhaighdeann mhaiseach òg,
"Feumaidh mise triall do'n bheinn,"
Chumail coinneamh aig an sgòrr,

Ris na slòigh tha'n sud a' seinn.

"Thig is aontaich leinn 'nar ceòl;
Thig is buail a' chlàrsach bhinn;
Meal an sonas tha ri òl ;

Ann ar còir, thig maille ruinn.”

Chual i guth tighinn nuas o neamh,
Labhairt caomh ri 'spiorad fann,
Thig is blais de'n abhainn shèimh,

Tha sruth mu'n chraoibh is àillidh th'ann.

Dhirich i ri beinn nan sian;

Ghabh i cead do thìr is cuan;

Chaidh i suas le siubhal dian

Bho'n ait 's nach d' fhuair i sonas buan.