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Alasdair à Gleanna Garadh,
Thug thu ’n-diugh gal air mo shùilibh;
’S beag ioghnadh mi bhith fo chreuchdaibh
’S gur tric gan reubadh às ùr iad;
’S beag ioghnadh mi bhith trom-osnach,
’S meud an dosgaidh th’ air mo chàirdibh;
Gur tric an t-eug uainn a’ gearradh
Rogha nan darag as àirde.
Chaill sinn ionann agus còmhla
Sir Dòmhnall ’s a mhac ’s a bhràthair;
Ciod e ’n stà dhuinn bhith gan gearan?
Thuit Mac Mhic Ailein sa bhlàr uainn;
Chaill sinn darag làidir liath-ghlas
A chumadh dìon air ar càirdean,
Capall-coille bhàrr na giùthsaich,
Seabhag sùil-ghorm lùthmhor làidir.
Bu tu ceann air cèill ’s air comhairl’
Anns gach gnothach am biodh cùram,
Aghaidh shoilleir sholta thlachdmhor,
Cridhe fial farsaing mun chùinneadh;
Bu tu roghainn nan sàr-ghaisgeach,
Ar guala thaice, ’s tu b’ fhiùghail;
Leòmhann smiorail fearail feumail,
Ceann-feachda chaill Seumas Stiùbhart.
Nam b’ ionann duitse ’s do Dhòmhnall,
An uair a chuir e ’n long air muir,
Cha tigeadh tu dhachaigh gu bràth
Gun fhios dè ’m fàth às ’n do chuir;
Nuair a chunnacas air an tràigh sibh
A bhith gur fàgail air faondradh,
Thuit ar cridheachan fo mhulad:
’S lèir a bhuil - cha robh sibh saogh’lach.
Bu tu ’n lasair dhearg gan losgadh,
Bu tu sgoltadh iad gu ’n sàiltibh,
Bu tu curaidh cur a’ chatha,
Bu tu ’n laoch gun athadh làimhe;
Bu tu ’m bradan anns an fhìor-uisg’,
Fìreun air an eunlaith ’s àirde,
Bu tu ’n leòmhann thar gach beathach,
Bu tu damh leathann na cràice.
Bu tu ’n loch nach fhaodte thaomadh,
Bu tu tobar faoilidh na slàinte,
Bu tu Beinn Nibheis thar gach aonach,
Bu tu chreag nach fhaodte theàrnadh;
Bu tu clach-uachdair a’ chaisteil,
Bu tu leac leathann na sràide,
Bu tu leug lòghmhor nam buadhan,
Bu tu clach uasal an fhàinne.
Bu tu ’n t-iubhar thar gach coillidh,
Bu tu ’n darach daingeann làidir,
Bu tu ’n cuileann ’s bu tu ’n draigheann,
Bu tu ’n t-abhall molach blàthmhor;
Cha robh do dhàimh ris a’ chritheann
No do dhligheadh ris an fheàrna;
Cha robh bheag ionnad den leamhan;
Bu tu leannan nam ban àlainn.
Bu tu cèile na mnà prìseil,
’S oil leam fhèin da dìth an dràst thu;
Ged nach ionann domhsa ’s dhise,
’S goirt a fhuair mise mo chàradh;
H-uile bean a bhios gun chèile,
Guidheadh i Mac Dè na àite,
O ’s E ’s urra bhith ga còmhnadh
Anns gach bròn a chuireas càs oirr’.
Guidheam t’ anam a bhith sàbhailt
On a chàireadh anns an ùir thu;
Guidheam sonas air na dh’fhàg thu
Ann ad àros ’s ann ad dhùthaich:
Gum faic mi do mhac ad àite
Ann an saidhbhreas ’s ann an cùram:
Alasdair à Gleanna Garadh,
Thug thu ’n-diugh gal air mo shùilibh.
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Alasdair of Glengarry, you have caused me to shed
tears today. Small wonder that I am covered with
wounds and that they are repeatedly being burst
open; small wonder that I am filled with deep sighing,
considering all the misfortune that has befallen my
friends. Death is constantly cutting off from us the
best of the tallest oaks.
We lost, almost at the same time, Sir Donald, his son
and his brother. What use is it for us to complain
over them? – Clanranald fell from us on the battle-
field. We have lost a strong grey oak-tree which
sheltered our friends, a wood-grouse from the pine-
wood, a blue-eyed hawk, vigorous and strong.
You were the leader in wisdom and counsel in every
activity where responsibility was concerned; bright,
pleasant and handsome face, heart generous and liberal
with money. You were the choice of excellent warriors,
a shoulder to support us, as you were worthy to be;
a courageous, manly and effective lion, a leader whom
James Stuart has lost.
If you were in the same situation as Donald was when
he put the boat to sea, you would never have come
home without knowing why he launched it. When
you were seen on the strand, left alone in the lurch
our hearts fell into sorrow. The outcome is clear:
you were not long-lived.
You were a red torch to burn them, you would cleave
them to the heels, you were a hero for waging battle,
you were a champion whose arm never flinched. You
were the salmon in fresh water, the eagle in the highest
flock, you were the lion above all beasts, you were the
stout antlered stag.
You were an undrainable loch, you were the liberal
fount of health; you were Ben Nevis above every
moor, you were an unscalable crag. You were the
top-stone of the castle, you were the broad flag of the
street, you were a priceless gem, you were the jewel in
the ring.
You were the yew above every forest, you were the
strong steadfast oak, you were the holly and the black-
thorn, you were the apple-tree, rough-barked and
many-flowered. You had no kinship with the aspen,
owed no bonds to the alder; there was none of the
lime-tree in you; you were the darling of beautiful
women.
You were the husband of an invaluable wife, and it
grieves me that she is now without you: though it is
not the same for me as for her, I have myself suffered
a bitter fortune. Let every wife who is without a
husband pray to have the Son of God in his place,
for He it is who can aid her in every sorrow which
afflicts her.
I pray that your soul may be saved, now that you have
been buried in the clay. I pray for happiness for
those you have left, in your home and in your lands.
May I see your son in your place, in wealth and re-
sponsibility. Alasdair of Glengarry, you have caused
me to shed tears today.
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