"O! greasaibh," ars' an òigh gu luath,
"Ged chuartaich cuantan tharuinn,
Am mèin an fhreasdail théid 's an uair
Mu'n còmhlaich gruaman m'athar.”
Bha 'n stoirm araon air muir 's air tìr,
'Nuair rinn am bàta imeachd,
Bha gàirdean feòlmhor lag air chinnt',
'S na tuinn le gaoith 'gan iomain.
'S am feadh a dh' iomair iad gu seòlt'
Feadh doininn mhòir a's sillidh,
Thàinig Tighearn Uilin air an tòir,
'S a mhòrchuis phill gu tioma.
Le mulad chunnaic beagan uaith
Air feadh nan stuagh a leanabh!-
Aon ghàirdean gràdhach shìn i suas,
A's aon mu'n cuairt d'a leannan.
"O thig air t'ais!" ghlaoidh e le bròn,
"Roimh bhòcanaich nan tonnan:
A's maitheam dhuit gu saor fadheòidh,
Mo nighean òg ro loinneil."
Bu diomhain tilleadh feadh nan tonn,
Bha tuilleadh 's trom ri 'n gleachdadh:
An fhairge chaidh i thar an ceann—
'S a chall gu'n d'rinn e fhaicinn.
RANNAN MU BHAS NA MNA UAISLE AINMEIL,
HESTER STANHOPE.
O 'dùthaich a's o 'càirdean dh'fhalbh
Gu fearann fad' an céin;
'S e'm fàsach nis a h-ionad tàimh,
'S a dachaidh bhos fo'n ghréin:
her lover, she withdrew from European society, and retired to the cheerless solitude of an old convent in Syria, where she acquired great influence over the Arabs, who conferred upon her the title of "Queen of the Desert," in return for her open-handed munificence and indomitable courage.
For her Arabia's sweets distil,-
For her its blossoms fall,
And Lebanon's proud cedars yield
To deck her sylvan hall.
The Syrian brings his golden fruit
And all his spicy store,
An offering to "The Desert Queen"
From many a sunny shore;
The Arab leaves his smiling tents,
Forgets his prize abroad,
To guard his "goddess" o'er the wild,
And kiss the path she trod.
From Ethiopia's torrid clime
To Sinai's hoary height,
Her frown can arm the slumbering vale,
Or quell the stormy fight:
The warrior humbly bends the knee,
Or drops the gory sword,
Rejoices in her gracious smile,
Or trembles at her word!
But, Lady! hast thou never thought,
Amid thy pomp and power,
Of Home and all its thousand ties
And childhood's happy hour?
Oh! hast thou never heaved a sigh
Or dropt a pensive tear
O'er memories of thy native land,
And all thy kindred dear?
Or did thy friends of early youth,
Like flowers untimely fall,
And leave thee, last of all thy race,
To tread thy father's hall?
And didst thou shun the lonely spot
To seek another shore,
To mourn o'er joys and honours gone,
That may return no more?
Tha bòltrach tlàth Arabia
A'sgaoileadh air gach taobh,
'S tha seudair àrda Lebanoin
'Cur mais' a's dreach faraon.
Na Sirianaich thig iad le meas,
A's spìsreadh mar an ceudn';
A's tiodhlacan bheir leotha fòs
O iomadh àite céin,
An t-Arabach gu'm fàg a bhùth,
'S gach maoin a's ni ta ann,
Gu teanacas thoirt d'a Bhanrighin féin,
'S a dion le faobhar lann.
O Ethopia 'an céin
Gu mullach beinn Shinai;
A gruaim gu'n gluas an sluagh gu h-euchd,
No ciùinichidh gu sàimh ;
An gaisgeach treun gu'n lùb a ghlùn,
'S gu'n leig a chlaidheamh sios,
A's criothnaichidh le geilt roi' gnùis,
No bidh e ait 'na sìd.
Ach innis an do smaointich riamh,
'Am meadhon do mhòr uaill,
Air dachaidh t'òige 's air do dhàimh,
Le mìltean ceangal buan?
'N do dhùisg an osna ann a'd' chòm ?
'N do shil gu dlùth do dheòir,
A' cuimhneachadh do dhùthcha féin,
A's chàirdean nach 'eil beò?
A's càirdean t'òig' an d' shearg iad as,
Mar mhaise blåth an fheòir?
'S an lùchairt t'athar 'n robh 'nan déigh
A'd' dheòraidh truagh fo bhròn ?
'N do sheachainn thu an t-àite sin,
'S an d'iarr thu dùthaich chéin,
Gu tuireadh air son gean a's àgh
Nach pill gu bràth riut féin?
Say, did thy friends deceive thy love
And rend thy youthful heart?
And did'st thou flee like stricken deer
To languish o'er the dart?
Did Araby's fair gardens seem
More lovely in thine eye,
Than all the ties that bind the soul,
To home and infancy?
'Tis vain to ask! "The Desert Queen"
Hath reached the peaceful shore,
Where faint and weary pilgrims rest,
Their toil and trouble o'er !
The Bedouin has planted there
The fairest flowers he found!
To show the spot in which she sleeps,
And mark the sacred ground!
Know ye who I saw last night,
Sleeping on my bed, Mamma?
A shining creature all in light;
She seem'd a heavenly maid, Mamma.
She met me tripping o'er the dew,
Fine as a queen of May, Mamma;
She saw, she smil'd, she to me flew,
And bade me come away, Mamma.
1 look'd, I lov'd I, blush'd a-while,
O how could I say, No, Mama?
She spoke so sweet, so sweet did smile,
I was oblig'd to go, Mamma:
For love my tender heart beguil❜d,
I felt unusual flames, Mamma.
My infant-fancy turn'd so wild,
So strangely wild my dreams, Mamma.
I was, I was, I know not how,
O had you been with me, Mamma !
'N do mheall do chàirdean thu le foill
A bhris do chridhe leònt'?
'S mar earb an déigh a lot gu goirt
'N do theich thu 'n so o'n tòir ?
Bheil liosan cùbhr' Arabia
Ni's gràdhaiche leat féin
Na h-uile àit' a b' ionmhuinn leat,
A's neach d' an d'thug thu spéis?
Is diomhain fharraid-chaidh i nis
Thar Iordan fhuar a' bhàis,
Far 'faigh na h-ànraich fois o'n sgios,
A's fuasgladh o gach càs :
An t-Arabach gu'n sàth an sin
Am blàth a b'àile fhuair,
A nochdadh ca' bheil i fo'n lic,
'S mar chomharr air a h-uaigh !
Bheil fhios agaibh am bruadar neònach
'Chunnaic mis' an raoir, Mhamà?
Creutair maiseach, geal, ro ghlòrmhor,
Mar òigh neamhaidh shoills', Mhamà.
Choinnich i mi air an drùchd,
A's sheall i rium le failt', Mhamà; 'N sin thàinig i gu grad dhomh dlùth,
A's thuirt i rium, "Thig leam, a ghràidh."
Dh'amhairc mi, a's thug mi gaol dh'i,
A diùltadh cha'n fhaodainn, Mhamà ;
Labhair i cho milis, caomh rium,
A's chaidh mi leath' gu saor, Mhamà.
Oir mheall an gaol mo chridhe maoth,
Bha lasair nach robh faoin, Mhama,
'Cur fadadh ri m' aigne gun rian,
Bha m' aisling cho beag ciall, Mhamà.
Bha mi-ni 'm fios domh mar a bha-
Ach Oh! na 'm biodh sibh ann,
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