Volume Iii Part 34 (1/2)
I canna weep, for hope is fled, And nought would do but silent mourn, Were 't no for dreams that should na come, To whisper back my love's return.
'Tis sair to dream o' them we like, That waking we sall never see; Yet, oh! how kindly was the smile My laddie in my sleep gave me!
METRICAL TRANSLATIONS
FROM
The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy.
METRICAL TRANSLATIONS
FROM
The Modern Gaelic Minstrelsy.
WILLIAM ROSS.
William Ross, the Bard of Gairloch, and the Burns of the Gaelic Highlands, was born at Broadford, in the island of Skye, in 1762. He received his school education at Forres, whither his parents removed during his youth, and obtained his training as a poet among the wilds of Highland scenery, which he visited with his father, who followed the calling of a pedlar. Acquiring a knowledge of the cla.s.sics and of general learning, he was found qualified for the situation of parish school-master of Gairloch. He died at Gairloch in 1790, at the early age of twenty-eight. Ross celebrated the praises of whisky (_uisg-bea_) in several lyrics, which continue popular among the Gael; but the chief theme of his inspiration was ”Mary Ross,” a fair Hebridean, whose coldness and ultimate desertion are understood to have proved fatal to the too susceptible poet.
THE HIGHLAND MAY.
I.
Let the maids of the Lowlands Vaunt their silks and their Hollands, In the garb of the Highlands Oh give me my dear!
Such a figure for grace!
For the Loves such a face!
And for lightness the pace That the gra.s.s shall not stir.
II.
Lips of cherry confine Teeth of ivory s.h.i.+ne, And with blushes combine To keep us in thrall.
Thy converse exceeding All eloquent pleading, Thy voice never needing To rival the fall Of the music of art,-- Steal their way to the heart, And resistless impart Their enchantment to all.
III.
When _Beltane_ is over, And summer joys hover, With thee a glad rover I 'll wander along, Where the harp-strings of nature Are strung by each creature, And the sleep shall be sweeter That lulls to their song, There, bounding together, On the lawn of the heather, And free from the tether, The heifers shall throng.