For the banner that waves is a banner of peace, Oh! thus may each banner of discord and strife, MY MOTHER. Who fed me from her gentle breast, My Mother. And rock'd me that I should not cry? My Mother. Who sat and watch'd my infant head, My Mother. When pain and sickness made me cry, My Mother. Who ran to help me when I fell, My Mother. And can I ever cease to be, My Mother? "Deir an t-aosda, 's e 'g éiridh le faoilt air a ghruaidh, "O chi mi an sanus tha 'tional an t-sluaigh! Mo cheum ged is anfhann, 's mo chiabh ged is liath, O nach robh bratach 'gach dùthcha, 's gach tìr'! MO MHATHAIR. Cò thog mi air a cìochaibh tlà, 'S a dh' altrum mi 'na h-uchd le gràdh ; Mo Mháthair. 'Nuair theich an cadal fada uam Cò thog an guth bu bhinne fuaim, Air chor 's gu'n thuit mi ann a'm' shuain? Mo Mhàthair. Cò dh' fhair thairis orm gu caomh, 'S mi 'm luidhe anns a' chreathail fhaoin, Mo Mhathair. Fo euslainte 'nuair bha mi'n sàs, O àm gu h-àm ni's laige 'fàs, Mo Mhàthair. Со а ruith gu m' thogail suas, 'S a chogair sgeula beag a' m' chluais, Mo Mhàthair. Cò air ùrnuigh dhùisg mo dhéigh, Mo Mhàthair. Am feud e bith nach deanar leam, Mo Mhàthair? Oh no! the thought I cannot bear; My Mother. My Mother. And when I see thee hang thy head, My Mother. VERSES As if they had been composed by Alexander Selkirk, during his solitary abode on the island of Juan Fernandez. I am monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute ; That sages have seen in thy face? I am out of humanity's reach, I must finish my journey alone, Society, friendship, and love, How soon would I taste you again! Cha 'n fheud-b'e sin a bhi gun truas; 'Nuair dh' fhàsas tusa lag sa' cheum, 'S bithidh mi a' m' thaice dhuit a' d' fheum, Mo Mhathair. 'Nuair chailleas tu do lùth 's do threòir, Ni mi faireadh ort le deòir, A dh'oidhch''s a latha bi’dh mi d' chòir, Mo Mhàthair. RANNAN Mar gu'n rachadh an deanamh le Alasdair Selcirc, an uair a bha e 'na aonaran air eilein Iuan Fernandes. Tha mi 'm righ air na chi mi mu'n cuairt, Cha 'n 'eil aon ann 'chur suarach mo reachd ; Fad na tìre gu crìochaibh a' chuain, Tha gach eun agus fia'-bhea'ch fo m' smachd. O aonrachd! c'à' bheil gach buaidh Chaidh a luaidh ort cho tric ann an dàn ? Tha mi far nach faigh duine a'm' chòir, Thig clisg orm le fuaim mo ghuth féin. Comh-chomunn, a's càirdeas, a's gaol, My sorrows then I might assuage Religion! What treasure untold Ye winds, that have made me your sport, Of a land I shall visit no more. Though a friend I am never to see. How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there; But, alas recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair. But the sea fowl is gone to her nest, And I to my cabin repair. And reconciles man to his lot. |