Chapter XLV: Gaelic Literature, Language, and Music (3)

A mhic mo mhic ’s e thubhairt an righ,
Oscair, a righ nan òg fhlath,
Chunnaic mi dealradh do lainne ’s b’e m’ uaill
’Bhi ’g amharc do bhuaidh ’s a chath.
Lean gu dlù ri cliù do shinnsircachd
’S na dìbir a bhi mar iadsan.
’N uair bu bheò Treunmhor nan rath,
’Us Trathull athair nan treun laoch,
Chuir iad gach cath le buaidh,
’Us bhuannaich iad cliù gach teugbhail.
’Us mairidh an iomradh ’s an dàn
Air chuimhn’ aig na baird an déigh so.
O! Oscair, claoidh thus’ an treun-armach,
’S thoir tearmunn do’n lag-lamhach, fheumach;
Bi mar bhuinne-shruth reothairt geamhraidh
Thoirt gleachd do naimhdibh na Feinn,
Ach mar fhann-ghaoth sheimh, thlàth, shambraidh,
Bi dhoibhsan a shireas do chabhar.
Mar sin bha Treunmhor nam buadh,
S bha Trathull nan ruag ’n a dheigh ann,
S bha Fionn ’na thaic do ’n fhann
G a dhion o ainneart luchd-eucoir.
’N a aobhar shininn mo lamh,
Le failte rachainn ’n a choinnimh,
’Us gheibheadh e fasgath ’us caird,
Fo sgàil dhrithlinneach mo loinne.

_English Translation._

ADDRESS OF FINGAL TO OSCAR.

Son of my son, so said the king,
Oscar, prince of youthful heroes,
I have seen the glitter of thy blade, and ’twas my pride
To see thy triumph in the conflict.
Cleave thou fast to the fame of thine ancestors,
And do not neglect to be like them.
When Treunmor the fortunate lived,
And Trathull the father of warriors,
They fought each field triumphantly,
And won the fame in every fight.
And their names shall flourish in the song
Commemorated henceforth by the bards.
Oh! Oscar, crush thou the armed hero,
But spare the feeble and the needy;
Be as the rushing winter, spring-tide, stream,
Giving battle to the foes of the Fingalians,
But as the gentle, soothing, summer breeze
To such as seek for thy help.
Such was Treunmor of victories,
And Trathull of pursuits, thereafter,
And Fingal was a help to the weak,
To save him from the power of the oppressor.
In his cause I would stretch out my hand,
With a welcome I would go to meet him,
And he should find shelter and friendship
Beneath the glittering shade of my sword.

The above is a true relic of the ancient Ossianic poetry, full of power and full of life, and indicates the existence of a refinement among the ancient Celts for which the opponents of Macpherson would not give them credit. Gillies tells us that his collection was made from gentlemen in every part of the Highlands. It is perhaps the most interesting collection of Highland song which we possess.

In 1816 there appeared a collection of Gaelic poetry by Hugh and John M’Callum. It was printed at Montrose, and the original Gaelic version and an English translation were published simultaneously. The work is called “An Original Collection of the Poems of Ossian, Orann, Ulin, and other bards who flourished in the same age.” There are twenty-six pieces altogether, and the editors give the sources whence they were all derived. These are such as Duncan Matheson in Snizort, Isle of Skye; Hector M’Phail in Torasay, Mull; Donald M’Innes, teacher, Gribun, Mull; Dr M’Donald of Killean, from whom “Teanntachd mòr na Feinn” was obtained--the Doctor maintaining, it appears, that his version was a better one than that given by Gillies; Archibald M’Callum in Killean; and others who furnish “Laoidh nan ceann,” a poem found in the collection of the Dean of Lismore, as are several others of the M’Callums’ collection.

This collection is a very admirable one, perfectly honest, and presents us with some compositions of high poetic merit. The addresses of Ossian to the sun, which Macpherson declines to give in Gaelic, substituting for one of them a series of asterisks, although he gives it in English, are here given in both languages; and the Gaelic versions are perhaps the finest compositions in the book. The address to the setting sun is here given as a specimen of the M’Callums’ collection:--

OISIAN DO ’N GHREIN AN AM LUIDH.

An d’ fhàg tha gorm astar nan speur,
A mhic gun bheud a’s òr bhuidh ciabh?
Tha dorsa na h-oidhche dhuit féin,
Agus pàilliuin do chlos ’s an Iar,
Thig na tonna mu’n cuairt gu mall
’Choimhead an fhir a ’s gloine gruaidh,
A’ togail fo eagal an ceann
Ri ’d fhaicinn cho àillidh a’d shuain;
Theich iadsan gun tuar o’d thaobh.
Gabh-sa codal ann ad uaimh
A ghrian, ’us pill an tùs le h-aoibhneas.
Mar bhoillsge grein’ ’s a gheamhradh
’S e ruith ’n a dheann le raon Lena
Is amhuil laithe nam Fiann.
Mar ghrian eadar frasaibh a’ tréigsinn
Dh’ aom neoil chiar-dhubh nan speur,
’Us bhuin iad an deò aoibhinn o ’n t-sealgair,
Tha lom gheugan na coill’ a’ caoidh,
Is maoth lusrach an t-sleibh’ a’ seargadh;
Ach pillidh fathasd a’ ghrian
Ri doire sgiamhach nan geug ùra,
’Us ni gach crann ’s a Chéitean gàire
Ag amharc an àird ri mac an speura.

_English Translation._

OSSIAN’S ADDRESS TO THE SETTING SUN.

Hast thou left the blue course of the sky
Faultless son of golden locks?
The gates of the night are for thee,
And thy place of repose is in the west.
The waves gather slowly around
To see him of fairest countenance;
Raising their heads in fear.
As they witness thy beauty in repose,
They fled pale from thy side.
Take thou rest in thy cave,
O sun, and return with rejoicing.
As the sunbeam in the winter time
Descending quick on the slope of Lena,
So are the days of the Fingalians.
As the sun becoming darkened among showers,
The dark clouds of the sky descended
And bore away the joyous light from the huntsman.
The bare branches of the wood weep,
And the soft herbage of the mountain withers.
But the sun shall return again
To the beautiful forest of the fresh-clothed branch,
And each bough shall smile in the early summer,
Looking up to the son of the sky.

The collection of the M’Callums was a real addition to the stores of Gaelic poetry, and is most helpful in bringing to a satisfactory conclusion the whole question of the ancient Gaelic poetry of Scotland. Were there no other Gaelic compositions in existence save those pieces which this volume contains, they would be sufficient to prove the high character of the heroic poetry of the Scottish Gael for everything that constitutes true poetic power.

It would be wrong in such a sketch as this to overlook the interesting and ingenious contribution made to the discussion of the Ossianic question in the third and fourth volumes of Mr J. Campbell’s _Tales of the West Highlands_. The whole four volumes are full of interesting materials for the student of Gaelic literature and antiquities, but the third and fourth volumes are those in which a place is given to the ancient Ossianic poems. Mr Campbell, the representative of a distinguished Highland family, and unlike many of the class to which he belongs, an excellent Gaelic scholar, made collections on his own account all over the Highlands. He had as his chief coadjutor in the work Mr Hector M’Lean, teacher in Islay, and he could not have had a better--Mr M’Lean being possessed of scholarship, enthusiasm, and sound judgment. The result is a very remarkable collection of the oral literature of the Highlands, including selections from a large amount of poetry attributed to Ossian. This book is a truly honest book, giving the compositions collected just as they were found among the native Highlanders. We shall take occasion again to refer to the Sgeulachds, or tales, and shall only refer at present to the Ossianic remains presented to us by Mr Campbell.

Mr Campbell’s collections include most of the pieces that have been brought together in the same way, with such variations, of course, as must be looked for in the circumstances. He furnishes us with a version of the Lay of Diarmad (vol. iii., 50), having peculiar features of its own, but to a large extent identical with the versions of the Dean of Lismore and of Gillies. It is of much interest to compare this version, taken down within the last few years, with one taken down one hundred years ago, and another taken down three hundred and fifty years ago. The retentive power of human memory for generations is remarkably illustrated by the comparison. Mr Campbell also gives us “The Lay of Oscar,” “The Praise of Gaul,” “The Poem of Oscar,” and several other minor compositions, some of which had never before been printed. These, with Mr Campbell’s own disquisitions, are full of interest; but for the details we must refer the reader to Mr Campbell’s volumes.

From all that has been written on the subject of these ancient Gaelic poems of Ossian, it is perfectly clear that Ossian himself is no creation of James Macpherson. His name has been familiar to the people both of the Highlands and Ireland, for a thousand years and more. “Oisian an deigh na Feinn,” _Ossian after the Fingalians_, has been a proverbial saying among them for numberless generations. Nor did Macpherson invent Ossian’s poems. There were poems reputed to be Ossian’s in the Highlands for centuries before he was born, and poems, too, which for poetic power and interest are unsurpassed; which speak home to the heart of every man who can sympathise with popular poetry marked by the richest felicities of diction; and which entitles them justly to all the commendation bestowed upon the poems edited by Macpherson.

MODERN GAELIC LITERATURE.

It will be seen that a large proportion of the existing Gaelic literature of the early period is poetical. Not that it is so altogether, by any means; and if any large amount of it had come down to us, there is no reason for believing that so large a share of it would be poetical. But the prose MS. writings of the ancient Gael have, with the few exceptions already referred to, perished; and have left us with such poetical compositions as adhered to the national memory.

As we enter upon the era of printing, we are disposed to look for a more extensive literature, and no doubt we find it. But with the era of printing came the use of another language, and the Gaelic ceased to be the vehicle for carrying abroad the thoughts of the learned. Religion still continued to make use of its services, but it ceased to be the handmaid of science and philosophy.

The first printed Gaelic book which we find is Bishop Carsewell’s Gaelic translation of the Liturgy of John Knox. It is well known that Knox compiled a prayer-book for the use of the Scottish Reformed Church, and that it was thought desirable that this prayer-book should be translated into the Gaelic language for the use of the Highlanders. The translation was undertaken by Mr John Carsewell, who was appointed superintendent of the ancient diocese of Argyle, which office he filled for many years. The book was printed at Edinburgh, in 1567. The language is what is in modern times called Irish, but might in Carsewell’s time be called Scotch, for none other was written in Scotland in so far as Gaelic was written at all. There are but three copies of this book known to exist--an entire copy in the library of the Duke of Argyle, and two imperfect copies, one in the library of the University of Edinburgh, and one in the British Museum. This book was printed before one line of Irish Gaelic was printed. Extracts from the volume will be found in the _Highland Society’s Report upon Ossian_, and in M’Lauchlan’s _Celtic Gleanings_. The former extract is made to show that the names of Fingal and the Fingalians were well known in the Highlands at the period of the Reformation. In 1631 a translation of Calvin’s Catechism appeared, probably executed by Carsewell.

In 1659 appeared the first fifty of the Psalms of David in metre by the Synod of Argyle. It is called “An ceud chaogad do Shalmaibh Dhaibhidh a meadrachd Gaoidhilg,” _the first Fifty of the Psalms of David in Gaelic Metre_. The language of the original here is what is called Irish, although it is, as is the Gaelic of Carsewell, the ordinary written Gaelic of the period. This translation forms the groundwork of all the editions of the Psalms that have been used since in the Scottish Church. The rest of the Psalms followed the first fifty in 1694, and the Psalter of the Argyle Synod became then complete. The introduction to the little volume of 1659 details the difficulties which the authors met in converting the Psalms into Gaelic metre, one of which, they say, was the necessity of adapting them to the structure of the English Psalm tunes. How Gaelic congregational singing was conducted in the Highlands previous to this little book appearing, it is hard to say. The introduction concludes with the words, “Anois, a Legthora, dense dithcheall ann sann obair bhigse bhuiliughadh gu maith, agus guidh ar an Tighearna é feín do bheannughadh an tshoisgeil ann sna tirthaibh gaoidhlachsa, agus lasair shoilleir lán teasa do dheanamh don tsraid bhig do lasadh cheana ionta. Grasa maille roit.”

_English Translation._

“And now, reader, strive to use this little work, and pray the Lord that He himself would bless the gospel in these Gaelic lands, and that He would make a bright flame full of heat of this little spark which has been now lighted in it.”

This little volume is now scarce, but full of interest to the Gaelic student.

Alongside of the Synod of Argyle, another indefatigable labourer in the same field was at work. This was Mr Robert Kirk, minister at Balquhidder. There seems to have been no Rob Roy in the district at the time, and Mr Kirk appears to have had a quiet life in his Highland parish; more so, indeed, than other Scottish ministers of the time, for he seems to have been engaged in his translation during the heat of the persecution of the Covenanters, and it was published in 1684, four years before the Revolution. Kirk is said to have been so anxious to have precedence of the Synod of Argyle, that he invented a machine for awakening him in the morning by means of water made to fall upon his face at a certain hour. His Psalter preceded that of the Synod by a period of ten years.

Mr Kirk dedicates his volume, which is published with the sanction of the Privy Council, and with the approbation of “the Lords of the Clergy, and some reverend ministers who best understand the Irish language,” to the Marquis of Athole, &c., of whom he says that his “Lordship has been of undoubted courage and loyalty for the king, and still alongst inflexible to the persuasions or threats of frozen neutralists or flaming incendiaries in Church or State.” Kirk further states that the work was “done by such as attained not the tongue (which he calls Scottish-Irish) without indefatigable industry,” manifestly pointing to himself as one who had so acquired it.

This little volume of the minister of Balquhidder is a most interesting contribution to our Gaelic literature. The language is what many writers call Irish, although there is no reason to believe that Mr Kirk ever was in Ireland, or conversed with speakers of Irish Gaelic. He knew and used the dialect which writers of the Gaelic language had used for centuries, and used at the time. No Irish writer could use a dialect more purely Irish than that found in Kirk’s Gaelic preface. Kirk concludes his preface with the following lines:--

Imthigh a Dhuilleachain gu dàn,
Le Dan glan diagha duisg iad thall.
Cuir failte air Fonn fial na bFionn,
Ar garbh-chriocha, ’s Indseadh gall.

_English Translation._

Go, little leaflet, boldly,
With pure holy songs wake them yonder,
Salute the hospitable land of the Fingalians,
The rugged borders, and the Isles of the strangers.

“The land of the Fingalians” was the Highlands generally; “the rugged borders” was the west coast of Inverness-shire and Ross-shire; and “the Isles of the Strangers” were the Hebrides, so called from being long in possession of the Norsemen.

In 1690 Mr Kirk edited in Roman letters an edition of Bedel’s Irish Bible, with O’Donnell’s New Testament, for the use of the Highlanders. Kirk says in the title-page of the work, “Nocha ta anois chum maitheas coit-cheann na nGaoidheil Albanach athruighte go hair-each as an litir Eireandha chum na mion-litir shoileighidh Romhanta” _which is now for the common good of the Highlanders changed carefully from the Irish letter to the small readable Roman letter_. At the close of the book there is a vocabulary of Irish words with their Gaelic equivalents. Many of the equivalents are as difficult to understand as the original Irish.

In 1694 the completed Psalm-book of the Synod of Argyle appeared. It was very generally accepted, and although some editions of Kirk’s Psalter appeared, the Synod’s Psalter became the Psalter of the Church, and was the basis of all the metrical versions of the Gaelic Psalms that have appeared since.

The Shorter Catechism was published in Gaelic by the Synod of Argyle about the same time with their first fifty Psalms. Numerous editions have been printed since, and perhaps there is no better specimen of the Gaelic language in existence than what is to be found in the common versions of it. The earlier versions are in the dialect so often referred to, called Irish. The title of the book is “Foirceadul aithghearr cheasnuighe, an dus ar na ordughadh le coimhthional na Ndiaghaireadh ag Niarmhanister an Sasgan, &c.” That may be called Irish, but it was a Scottish book written by Scottish men.

In 1725 the Synod of Argyle, who cannot be too highly commended for their anxiety to promote the spiritual good of their countrymen in the Highlands, published a translation of the Confession of Faith into Gaelic. It is a small duodecimo volume printed at Edinburgh. The Larger and Shorter Catechisms, with the Ten Commandments, the Lord’s Prayer, and the Creed follow the Confession. The book is well printed, and the language is still the so-called Irish. The title runs:--“Admhail an Chreidimh, air an do reitigh air ttus coimhthionol na nDiaghaireadh aig Niarmhoinister an Sasgan; &c.... ar na chur a Ngaoidheilg le Seanadh Earraghaoidheal.” _The Confession of Faith, &c., translated into Gaelic by the Synod of Argyle._

It is interesting with respect to the dialect in which all the works referred to appear, to inquire whence the writers obtained it, if it be simply Irish. Carsewell’s Prayer-book appeared before any work in Irish Gaelic was printed. The ministers of the Synod of Argyle were surely Scottish Highlanders and not Irishmen. Mr Kirk of Balquhidder was a lowland Scot who acquired the Gaelic tongue. Now these men, so far as we know, were never in Ireland, and there were no Irish-Gaelic books from which they could acquire the tongue. There might be manuscripts, but it is not very probable that men would inspect manuscripts in order to enable them to write in a dialect that was foreign to the people whom they intended to benefit. Yet these all write in the same dialect, and with the identical same orthography. Surely this proves that the Scottish Gael were perfectly familiar with that dialect as the language of their literature, that its orthography among them was fixed, that the practice of writing it was common, as much so as among the Irish, and that the people readily understood it. It is well known that the reading of the Irish Bible was common in Highland churches down to the beginning of this century, and that the letter was, from the abbreviations used, called “A’ chorra litir,” and was familiar to the people. At the same time, the language was uniformly called Irish, as the people of the Highlands were called Irish, although there never was a greater misnomer. Such a designation was never employed by the people themselves, and was only used by those who wrote and spoke English. In the title of the Confession of Faith published in Gaelic in 1725, it is said to be translated into the Irish language by the Synod of Argyle.

GAELIC BIBLE.

Religious works formed the staple of the literature issued from the Gaelic press from the period now spoken of to the present day. The great want for many years was the Bible. For a long time the clergy used the Irish edition reprinted for the use of the Highlands by Mr Kirk; but this was not satisfactory, from the difference of the dialect; many in consequence preferred translating from the English. This habit pervaded all classes, and it is not improbable that there are in the Highlands still persons who prefer translating the Scriptures for their own use to the common version. Certain traditional forms of translation were at one time in general use, and occasionally the translations given bordered on the ludicrous. A worthy man was once translating the phrase “And they were astonied,” and he made it “Bha iad air an clachadh,” _They were stoned_. It was in every way desirable that a correct translation of the Gaelic Bible should be provided for the use of the Highlands, and this was finally undertaken by the Society for Propagating Christian Knowledge. The person employed to perform the work was the Rev. James Stewart of Killin, a man fully qualified for it, and although his translation retained too much of the Irish dialect of O’Donnell’s Irish New Testament, it was welcomed as a highly creditable work, and as a great boon to the Highlands. Many minor changes have been made in the Gaelic New Testament of 1767, but it has been the basis of all subsequent editions which have sought merely to render certain portions of the work more idiomatic and pleasing to a Scottish ear. The publishing of this version of the New Testament proved a great benefit to the Highlands.

Soon after the publication of the New Testament, it was resolved that the Old Testament should be translated into Gaelic also. This work, like the former, was undertaken by the Society for Propagating Christian Knowledge, assisted by a collection made throughout the congregations of the Church of Scotland amounting to £1483. The principal translator employed was the Rev. Dr John Stewart of Luss, son of the translator of the New Testament, who translated three portions of the work, while a fourth portion, including the Prophets, was executed by the Rev. Dr Smith, of Campbellton, the accomplished editor of the Sean Dana. The whole work was completed and published in the year 1801. This work has been of incalculable service to the Highlands, and is one of the many benefits conferred upon that portion of the country by the excellent Society who undertook it. Objections have been taken to the many Irish idioms introduced into the language, and to the extent to which the Irish orthography was followed, but these are minor faults, and the work itself is entitled to all commendation.

TRANSLATIONS FROM THE ENGLISH.

Much of our modern Gaelic prose literature consists of translations from the English. In this the Gaelic differs from the Welsh, in which is to be found a large amount of original prose writing on various subjects. This has arisen from the demand for such a literature being less among the Highlanders, among whom the English language has made greater progress, so much so, that when a desire for extensive reading exists, it is generally attended with a sufficient knowledge of English. Translations of religious works, however, have been relished, and pretty ample provision has been made to meet the demand. The first book printed in modern Scottish Gaelic was a translation of Baxter’s _Call to the Unconverted_, executed by the Rev. Alex. M’Farlane, of Kilninver, and published in 1750. There is much of the Irish orthography and idiom retained in this work, but it is a near approach to the modern spoken language of the Highlands. Since then many of the works of well-known religious authors have been translated and published, among which may be mentioned works by Boston, Bunyan, Brookes, Colquhoun, and Doddridge. These are much prized and read throughout the Highlands. The translations are of various excellence; some of them accurate and elegant, while others are deficient in both these qualities. Dr Smith’s version of Alleine’s _Alarm_ is an admirable specimen of translation, and is altogether worthy of the fame of Dr Smith. The same may be said of Mr M’Farlane’s translation of _The History of Joseph_, which is an excellent specimen of Gaelic writing. The _Monthly Visitor_ tract has been translated by the writer for the last twelve years, and it has a large circulation.

ORIGINAL PROSE WRITINGS.

Of these Mr Reid, in his _Bibliotheca Scoto-Celtica_, gives but a scanty catalogue. He gives but a list of ten, most of them single sermons. There are several other such writings, however, which have been added since Reid’s list was made up. Among these appears M’Kenzie’s _Bliadhna Thearlaich_, “Charles’s year,” a vigorous well-written account of the rebellion of 1745-6. M’Kenzie was the compiler of a volume of Gaelic poetry in which the best specimens of the works of the bards are generally given, and although having ideas of his own on the subject of orthography, few men knew the Gaelic language better. We have also a volume on astronomy by the Rev. D. Connell; and a _History of Scotland_ by the Rev. Angus Mackenzie, both of them creditable performances. It is doubtful how far these works have been patronised by the public, and how far they have been of pecuniary benefit to their authors, but they are deserving works, and if they have not proved a remunerative investment, it is from want of interest on the part of the readers more than from want of ability on the part of the writers. In addition to these have been several magazines, the contents of which have in some instances been collected into a volume and published separately. Of these are _An teachdaire Gaidhealach_, “The Gaelic Messenger,” edited by the late Rev. Dr M’Leod of Glasgow, and a Free Church magazine _An Fhianuis_, “The Witness,” edited by the Rev. Dr Mackay, now of Harris. “The Gaelic Messenger,” _An Teachdaire Gaidhealach_, contained a large proportion of papers furnished by the editor, Dr M’Leod. These have been since that time collected into a volume by his son-in-law the Rev. Archibald Clerk of Kilmallie, and published under the title of _Caraid nan Gaidheal_, “The Friend of the Highlanders.” This is an admirable volume, containing, as it does, our best specimens of racy, idiomatic Gaelic, of which Dr M’Leod was a master. It is a most interesting addition to our Gaelic literature. Besides this, Dr M’Leod produced _Leabhar nan Cnoc_, “The Book of the Knowes,” a school collection of prose and poetry, and several other lesser works. The _Leabhar nan Cnoc_ is an admirable collection of fragments, well adapted for school use, and at the same time interesting to the general reader.

But the most remarkable addition that has recently been made to Gaelic prose literature is Mr J. F. Campbell’s collection of “Sgeulachdan” or ancient Highland tales. It was long known that a large amount of this kind of literature existed in the Highlands; that it formed the treasure of the reciter, a character recognised and appreciated in every small community; and that it was the staple fireside amusement of many a winter evening. Specimens of this literature appeared occasionally in print, and one of great interest, and remarkably well given, called _Spiorad na h-aoise_, “The Spirit of Age,” appears in _Leabhar nan Cnoc_, the collection already spoken of. Mr Campbell set himself to collect this literature from the traditions of the people, and he has embodied the result in four goodly volumes, which every lover of the language and literature of the Celt must prize. Many coadjutors aided Mr Campbell in his undertaking, and he was happy in finding, as has been already said, in Mr Hector M’Lean, teacher, Islay, a most efficient collector and transcriber of the tales. These tales were known among the Highlanders as “Sgeulachdan” Tales, or “Ursgeulan” Noble Tales, the latter having reference usually to stories of the Fingalian heroes. They are chiefly “Folk lore” of the kinds which are now known to pervade the world amongst a certain class as their oral literature. The Tales themselves are of various degrees of merit, and are manifestly derived from various sources. Some of them took their origin in the fertile imagination of the Celt, while others are obviously of classical origin, and are an adaptation of ancient Greek and Latin stories to the taste of the Celt of Scotland. Mr Campbell, in his disquisitions accompanying the tales, which are often as amusing and instructive as the tales themselves, traces numerous bonds of connection between them and similar legends common to almost all the European nations. He shows where they meet and where they diverge, and makes it very clear that most of them must have had a common origin. It has been maintained that many of these legends were brought to Scotland by returning Crusaders; that they were often the amusement of the camp among these soldiers of the ancient Church; and that, related among hearers of all nations, they became dispersed among those nations, and that thus Scotland came to obtain and to retain her share of them.

That Scotland felt largely the influence of the Crusades cannot be denied by any observant student of her history. Her whole political and social system was modified by them, while to them is largely due the place and power which the mediæval Church obtained under the government of David I. That Scottish literature should have felt their influence is more than likely, and it is possible, although it is hardly safe to go further, that some of these tales of the Scottish Highlands owe their existence to the wanderings of Scottish Crusaders. Be their origin, however, what it may, they afford a deeply interesting field of enquiry to the student of the popular literature of the country. In our own view, they are of great value, as presenting us with admirable specimens of idiomatic Gaelic. We transcribe one tale, making use of the ordinary orthography of the Gaelic, Mr Campbell having used forms of spelling which might serve to express the peculiarities of the dialect in which he found them couched.

MAOL A CHLIOBAIN.

Bha bantrach ann roimhe so, ’us bha trì nigheanan aice, ’us
thubhairt iad rithe, gu’n rachadh iad a dh’iarraidh an fhortain.
Dheasaich i trì bonnaich. Thubhairt i ris an té mhòir, “Cò aca
is fhearr leat an leth bheag ’us mo bheannachd, no’n leth mhòr
’s mo mhallachd?” “Is fhearr leam, ars’ ise, an leth mhòr ’us
do mhallachd.” Thubhairt i ris an té mheadhonaich, “Co aca’s
fhearr leat an leth bheag ’us mo bheannachd, no’n leth mhòr ’us mo
mhallachd.” “Is fhearr leam an leth mhòr ’us do mhallachd,” ars’
ise. Thubhairt i ris an té bhig, “Co aca ’s fhearr leat an leth mhòr
’us mo mhallachd, no’n leth bheag ’s mo bheannachd?” “Is fhearr leam
an leth bheag’us do bheannachd.” Chord so r’a màthair, ’us thug i
dhi an leth eile cuideachd.

Dh’ fhalbh iad, ach cha robh toil aig an dithis ’bu shine an té
’b’òige ’bhi leo, ’us cheangail iad i ri carragh cloiche. Ghabh
iad air an aghaidh, ’s ’n uair a dh’amhairc iad as an déigh, co a
chunnaic iad ach ise ’us a’ chreig air a muin. Leig iad leatha car
treis gus an d’ràinig iad cruach mhòine, ’us cheangail iad ris a
chruaich mhòine i. Ghabh iad air an aghaidh treis, ’us dh’amhairc
iad ’n an déigh, ’us cò a chunnaic iad ach ise a’ tighinn, ’s a’
chruach mhòine air a muin. Leig iad leatha car tacan gus an d’ràinig
iad craobh, ’us cheangail iad ris a’chraoibh i. Ghabh iad air an
aghaidh treis, ’us ’n’uair a dh’amhairc iad ’n an déigh, cò a
chunnaic iad ach ise a’ tighinn, ’s a’chraobh air a muin. Chunnaic
iad nach robh maith bhí rithe. Dh’fhuasgail iad i ’us leig iad leo
i. Bha iad a’ falbh gus an d’thàinig an oidhche orra. Chunnaic iad
solus fada uatha, ’us ma b’fhada uatha, cha b’fhada bha iadsan ’g
a ruigheachd. Chaidh iad a stigh. Ciod e bha so ach tigh famhair.
Dh’iarr iad fuireach ’s an oidhche. Fhuair iad sin ’us chuireadh a
luidhe iad le trì nigheanan an fhamhair.

Bha caran de chneapan òmbair mu mhuinealan nigheanan an fhamhair,
agus sreangan gaosaid mu’m muinealan-san. Choidil iad air fad, ach
cha do choidil Maol a’ chliobain. Feadh na h-oidhche thàinig pathadh
air an fhamhar. Ghlaodh e r’a ghille maol carrach uisge ’thoirt
d’a ionnsuidh. Thubhairt an gille maol carrach nach robh deur a
stigh. “Marbh, ars’ esan, té de na nigheanan coimheach, ’us thoir
a’m ionnsuidhse a fuil.” “Ciamar a dh’ aithuicheas mi eatorra?”
ars’ an gille maol carrach. “Tha caran de chneapan mu mhuinealan
mo nigheanan-sa, agus caran gaosaid mu mhuinealan chàich.” Chuala
Maol a chliobain am famhar, ’us cho clis ’s a b’urrainn i, chuir i
na sreanganan gaosaid a bha m’a muineal féin agus mu mhuinealan a
peathraichean mu mhuinealan nigheanan an fhamhair, agus na cneapan
a bha mu mhuinealan nigheanan an fhamhair m’a muineal féin agus mu
mhuinealan a peathraichean, ’us luidh i sios gu samhach. Thàinig
an gille maol carrach, ’us mharbh e té de nigheanan an fhamhair,
’us thug e an fhuil d’a ionnsuidh. Dh’iarr e tuilleadh a thoirt d’a
ionnsuidh. Mharbh e an ath thé. Dh’iarr e tuilleadh ’us mharbh e an
treas té. Dhùisg Maol a’ chliobain a’ peathraichean, ’us thug i air
a muin iad, ’us ghabh i air falbh. Mhothaich am famhar dith ’us lean
e i.

Na spreadan teine a bha ise ’cur as na clachan le a sàiltean, bha
iad a’ bualadh an fhamhair ’s an smigead; agus na spreadan teine a
bha am famhar ’toirt as na clachan le barraibh a chos, bha iad a’
bualadh Mhaol a’ chliobain an cùl a’ chinn. Is e so ’bu dual doibh
gus an d’ràinig iad amhainn. Leum Maol a’ chliobain an amhainn ’us
cha b’urrainn am famhar an amhainn a leum. “Tha thu thall, a Mhaol
a’ chliobain.” “Tha, ma’s oil leat.” “Mharbh thu mo thrì nigheanan
maola, ruagha.” “Mharbh, ma ’s oil leat.” “’Us c’uine thig thu ris?”
“Thig, ’n uair bheir mo ghnothuch ann mi.”

Ghabh iad air an aghaidh gus an d’ràinig iad tigh tuathanaich. Bha
aig an tuathanach tri mic. Dh’innis iad mar a thachair dhoibh. Ars’
an tuatha ach ri Maol a’chliobain, “Bheir mi mo mhac a’s sine do’d
phiuthair a’s sine, ’us faigh dhomh cìr mhìn òir, ’us cìr gharbh
airgid, a th’aig an fhamhar.” “Cha chosd e tuilleadh dhuit,” ars’
Maol a’ chliobain. Dh’fhalbh i ’us ràinig i tigh an fhamhair. Fhuair
i stigh gun fhios. Thug i leatha na cìrean ’us dhalbh i mach.
Mhothaich am famhar dhìth; ’us as a deigh a bha e gus an d’ràinig
e an amhainn. Leum ise an amhainn ’us cha b’urrainn am famhar an
amhainn a leum. “Tha thu thall, a Mhaol a’ chliobain.” “Tha, ma ’s
oil leat.” “Mharbh, thu mo thrì nigheanan maola, ruagha.” “Mharbh,
ma ’s oil leat.” “Ghoid thu mo chìr mhìn òir, ’us mo chìr gharbh
airgid.” “Ghoid, ma ’s oil leat.” “C’ uine thig thu rìs?” “Thig, ’n
uair bheir mo ghnothuch ann mi.”

Thug i na cìrean thun an tuathanaich, ’us phòs a piuthair mhòr-sa
mac mòr an tuathanaich.

“Bheir mi mo mhac meadhonach do’d phiuthair mheadhonaich, ’us faigh
dhomh claidheamh soluis an fhamhair.” “Cha chosd e tuilleadh dhuit,”
ars’ Maol a’ chliobain. Ghabh i air falbh, ’us ràinig i tigh an
fhamhair. Chaidh i suas ann an barr craoibhe ’bha os cionn tobair
an fhamhair. Anns an oidhche thainig an gille maol carrach, ’us
an claidheamh soluis leis, a dh’iarraidh uisge. An uair a chrom e
a thogail an uisge, thainig Maol a’ chliobain a nuas, ’us phut i
sios ’s an tobar e ’us bhàth i e, ’us thug i leatha an claidheamh
soluis. Lean am famhar i gus an d’ràinig i an amhainn. Leum i an
amhainn, ’us cha b’urrainn am famhar a leantuinn. “Tha thu thall,
a Mhaol a’ chliobain.” “Tha, ma ’s oil leat.” “Mharbh thu mo thrì
nigheanan maola, ruadha.” “Mharbh ma ’s oil leat.” “Ghoid thu mo
chìr mhìn òir, ’s mo chìr gharbh airgid.” “Ghoid, ma ’s oil leat.”
“Mharbh thu mo ghille maol carrach.” “Mharbh ma ’s oil leat.” “Ghoid
thu mo chlaidheamh soluis.” “Ghoid, ma ’s oil leat.” “C’uine thig
thu rìs.” “Thig, ’n uair bheir mo ghnothuch ann mi.” Ràinig i tigh
an tuathanaich leis a’ chlaidheamh sholuis, ’us phòs a piuthair
mheadhonach ’us mac meadhonach an tuathanaich.

“Bheir mi dhuit féin mo mhac a’s òige,” ars’ an tuathanach, “’us
thoir a’m ionnsuidh boc a th’aig an fhamhar.” “Cha chosd e tuilleadh
dhuit” ars’ Maol a’ chliobain. Dh’fhalbh i ’us ràinig i tigh an
fhamhair, ach an uair a bha greim aice air a bhoc, rug am famhar,
oirre. “Ciod e” ars’ am famhar, “a dheanadh tus’ ormsa, nan deanainn
uibhir a choire ort ’s a rinn thus’ ormsa.” “Bheirinn ort gu’n
sgàineadh tu thu fhéin le brochan bainne; chuirinn an sin ann am poc
thu; chrochainn thu ri druim an tighe; chuirinn teine fothad; ’us
ghabhainn duit le cabar gus an tuiteadh thu ’n ad chual chrionaich
air an ùrlar. Rinn am famhar brochan bainne ’us thugar dhìth ri òl
e. Chuir ise am brochan bainne m’ a beul ’us m’ a h-eudainn, ’us
luidh i seachad mar gu’m bitheadh i marbh. Chuir am famhar ann am
poc i, ’us chroch e i ri druim an tighe, ’us dh’fhalbh e fhéin ’us a
dhaoine a dh’iarraidh fiodha do’n choille. Bha màthair an fhamhair a
stigh.” Theireadh Maol a’ chliobain ’n uair a dh’fhalbh am famhar,
“Is mise ’tha ’s an t-sòlas, is mise ’tha ’s a chaithir òir.” “An
leig thu mise ann?” ars’ a’ chailleach. “Cha leig, gu dearbh.”
Mu dheireadh, leig i nuas am poca; chuir i stigh a’ chailleach,
’us cat, ’us laogh, ’us soitheach uachdair; thug i leatha am boc,
’us dh’fhalbh i. An uair a thainig am famhar, thoisich e fhéin
’us a dhaoine air a’ phoca leis na cabair. Bha a’ chailleach a’
glaodhaich, “’S mi fhéin a th’ ann.” “Tha fios agam gur tu fhéin a
th ’ann,” theireadh am famhar, ’us e ag éiridh air a’ phoca. Thàinig
am poc’ a nuas ’n a chual’ chrionaich ’us ciod e ’bha ann ach a
mhàthair. An uair a chunnaic am famhar mar a bha, thug e as an déigh
Mhaol a’ chliobain. Lean e i gus an d’ràinig i an amhainn. Leum Maol
a’ chliobain an amhainn ’us cha b’urrainn am famhar a leum. “Tha thu
thall, a Mhaol a’ chliobain.” “Tha, ma ’s oil leat.” “Mharbh thu
mo thrì nigheanan maola, ruadha.” “Mharbh, ma ’s oil leat.” “Ghoid
thu mo chìr mhin òir, ’us mo chìr gharbh airgid.” “Ghoid, ma ’s oil
leat.” “Mharbh thu mo ghille maol, carrach.” “Mharbh, ma ’s oil
leat.” “Ghoid thu mo chlaidheamh soluis.” “Ghoid, ma ’s oil leat.”
“Mharbh thu mo mhàthair.” “Mharbh, ma ’s oil leat.” “Ghoid thu mo
bhoc.” “Ghoid, ma ’s oil leat.” “C’uine a thig thu rìs?” “Thig ’n
uair bheir mo ghnothuch ann mi.” “Nam bitheadh tusa bhos ’us mise
thall” ars’ am famhar, “Ciod e dheanadh tu airson mo leantuinn?”
“Stopainn mi fhéin, agus dh’olainn gus an traoghainn, an amhainn.”
Stop am famhar e fhéin, ’us dh’ òl e gus an do sgàin e. Phòs Maol a’
chliobain Mac òg an tuathanaich.

_English Translation._

There was a widow once of a time, and she had three daughters, and
they said to her that they were going to seek their fortunes. She
prepared three bannocks. She said to the big daughter, “Whether do
you like best the little half with my blessing, or the big half with
my curse?” “I like best,” said she, “the big half with your curse.”
She said to the middle one, “Whether do you like best the big half
with my curse, or the little half with my blessing?” “I like best,”
said she, “the big half with your curse.” She said to the little
one, “Whether do you like best the big half with my curse, or the
little half with my blessing?” “I like best the little half with
your blessing.” This pleased her mother, and she gave her the other
half likewise.

They left, but the two older ones did not wish to have the younger
one with them, and they tied her to a stone. They held on, and when
they looked behind them, whom did they see coming but her with the
rock on her back. They let her alone for a while until they reached
a stack of peats, and they tied her to the peat-stack. They held on
for a while, when whom did they see coming but her with the stack of
peats on her back. They let her alone for a while until they reached
a tree, and they tied her to the tree. They held on, and whom did
they see coming but her with the tree on her back. They saw that
there was no use in meddling with her. They loosed her, and they let
her come with them. They were travelling until night overtook them.
They saw a light far from them, and if it was far from them they
were not long reaching it. They went in. What was this but the house
of a giant. They asked to remain overnight. They got that, and they
were set to bed with the three daughters of the giant.

There were turns of amber beads around the necks of the giant’s
daughters, and strings of hair around their necks. They all slept,
but Maol a chliobain kept awake. During the night the giant got
thirsty. He called to his bald rough-skinned lad to bring him water.
The bald rough-skinned lad said that there was not a drop within.
“Kill,” said he, “one of the strange girls, and bring me her blood.”
“How will I know them?” said the bald rough-skinned lad. “There are
turns of beads about the necks of my daughters, and turns of hair
about the necks of the rest.” Maol a chliobain heard the giant, and
as quickly as she could she put the strings of hair that were about
her own neck and the necks of her sisters about the necks of the
giant’s daughters, and the beads that were about the necks of the
giant’s daughters about her own neck and the necks of her sisters,
and laid herself quietly down. The bald rough-skinned lad came and
killed one of the daughters of the giant, and brought him her blood.
He bade him bring him more. He killed the second one. He bade him
bring him more, and he killed the third. Maol a chliobain wakened
her sisters, and she took them on her back and went away. The giant
observed her, and he followed her.

The sparks of fire which she was driving out of the stones with her
heels were striking the giant in the chin, and the sparks of fire
that the giant was taking out of the stones with the points of his
feet, they were striking Maol a chliobain in the back of her head.
It was thus with them until they reached a river. Maol a chliobain
leaped the river, and the giant could not leap the river. “You are
over, Maol a chliobain.” “Yes, if it vex you.” “You killed my three
bald red-skinned daughters.” “Yes, if it vex you.” “And when will
you come again?” “I will come when my business brings me.”

They went on till they reached a farmer’s house. The farmer had
three sons. They told what happened to them. Says the farmer to Maol
a chliobain, “I will give my eldest son to your eldest sister, and
get for me the smooth golden comb and the rough silver comb that
the giant has.” “It won’t cost you more,” said Maol a chliobain.
She left and reached the giant’s house. She got in without being
seen. She took the combs and hastened out. The giant observed her,
and after her he went until they reached the river. She leaped
the river, and the giant could not leap the river. “You are over,
Maol a chliobain.” “Yes, if it vex you.” “You killed my three bald
red-skinned daughters.” “Yes, if it vex you.” “You stole my smooth
golden comb and my rough silver comb.” “Yes, if it vex you.” “When
will you come again.” “When my business brings me.”

She brought the combs to the farmer, and the big sister married the
big son of the farmer.

“I will give my middle son to your middle sister, and get for me
the giant’s sword of light.” “It won’t cost you more,” says Maol a
chliobain. She went away, and reached the giant’s house. She went
up in the top of a tree that was above the giant’s well. In the
night the bald, rough-skinned lad came for water, having the sword
of light with him. When he bent over to raise the water, Maol a
chliobain came down and pushed him into the well and drowned him,
and took away the sword of light. The giant followed her till she
reached the river. She leaped the river, and the giant could not
follow her. “You are over, Maol a chliobain.” “Yes, if it vex you.”
“You killed my three bald red-haired daughters.” “Yes, if it vex
you.” “You stole my smooth golden comb and my rough silver comb.”
“Yes, if it vex you.” “You killed my bald rough-skinned lad.” “Yes,
if it vex you.” “You stole my sword of light.” “Yes, if it vex
you.” “When will you come again?” “When my business brings me.” She
reached the farmer’s house with the sword of light, and her middle
sister married the middle son of the farmer.

“I will give yourself my youngest son,” said the farmer, “and bring
me the buck that the giant has.” “It won’t cost you more,” said
Maol a chliobain. She went and she reached the giant’s house, but
as she got hold of the buck, the giant laid hands upon her. “What,”
said the giant, “would you do to me if I had done to you as much
harm as you have done to me?” “I would make you burst yourself with
milk porridge. I would then put you in a bag; I would hang you to
the roof of the house; I would place fire under you; and I would
beat you with sticks until you fell a bundle of dry sticks on the
floor.” The giant made milk porridge, and gave it her to drink. She
spread the milk porridge over her mouth and her face, and lay down
as if she had been dead. The giant put her in a bag which he hung to
the roof of the house, and he and his men went to the wood to get
sticks. The mother of the giant was in. When the giant went away,
Maol a chliobain cried, “It is I that am in comfort; it is I that
am in the golden seat.” “Will you let me there?” said the hag. “No,
indeed.” At length she let down the bag; she put the hag inside,
and a cat, and a calf, and a dish of cream; she took away the buck,
and she left. When the giant came, he and his men fell upon the
bag with the sticks. The hag was crying out, “It’s myself that’s
here.” “I know it is yourself that’s there,” the giant would say,
striking the bag. The bag fell down a bundle of dry sticks, and what
was there but his mother. When the giant saw how it was, he set off
after Maol a chliobain. He followed her till she reached the river.
Maol a chliobain leaped the river, but the giant could not leap the
river. “You are over, Maol a chliobain.” “Yes, if it vex you.” “You
killed my three bald red-skinned daughters.” “Yes, if it vex you.”
“You stole my smooth golden comb and my rough silver comb.” “Yes, if
it vex you.” “You killed my bald, rough-skinned lad.” “Yes, if it
vex you.” “You stole my sword of light.” “Yes, if it vex you.” “You
killed my mother.” “Yes, if it vex you.” “You stole my buck.” “Yes,
if it vex you.” “When will you come again?” “When my business brings
me.” “If you were over here and I over there, what would you do to
follow me?” “I would stop myself up, and I would drink until I dried
the river.” The giant stopped himself up, and drunk until he burst.
Maol a chliobain married the young son of the farmer.

The above is a fair specimen of these tales with which the story-tellers of the Highlands were wont to entertain their listeners, and pass agreeably a long winter evening. The versions of such tales are various, but the general line of the narrative is always the same. Scores of these tales may still be picked up in the West Highlands, although Mr Campbell has sifted them most carefully and skilfully, and given to the public those which are undoubtedly best. The following is a specimen referring to the famous Tom na h-iùbhraich, in the neighbourhood of Inverness. It was taken down by the writer from the recital of an Ardnamurchan man in Edinburgh, and has never been printed before. The resemblance of a portion of it to what is told of Thomas the Rhymer and the Eildon Hills, is too close to escape observation. These tales are valuable as preserving admirable specimens of the idioms of the Gaelic language.

NA FIANTAICHEAN.

FEAR A’ GHEADAIN CLÒIMHE.