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Lyr Add: Oran A 'Phrionnsa
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Oran A 'Phrionnsa From: RunrigFan Date: 09 Jun 21 - 06:30 PM Towards the shore of the ocean against the cold wind of the late night. Charles came with radiance to Scotland, tired: there was no star on his bosom or guard travelling with him but the knowingness of the blue eyes radiating and like a diamond in the night of the young woman was sad and in pain about Charles leaving his country and heavy was her sigh and sore the tears from her eyes when she saw the sailing gallery nearing land. (no punctuation The moon was swimming over the heights of the jutting ben and the dancing rays of the heavy leaping waves, suddenly she noticed like a wounded virgin, to the shadow on her white countenance under the eye of the clouds, to the moon and the stars themselves blue-carpeted, the sighing of the wind genially but sad, leaving us; the complaining of the ocean when breaking on the massive rocks, the devastation on Scotland where the brave were killed Flora and Charles stood on the shore of Dùn Caoil with them, and heart-torn emaciated their countenance with pain, there was no word from his lips but crying without respite, and they were face-to-face crying with love, when the gallery arrived it was the young lady that began broken voices and inept communication, like an un-tuned disorderly harp, the beautiful young ladies were anguished and agonised. Charles, son of Seumas, son of Seumas of justice, as your crown was wounded like a coward of no avail, if the brave heroes are wounded they will not rise or wake up, a closed eye nightmare the darkness of death, they wont take the sword in the camp against the enemy, they wont scatter the Saxon men like stubble in the fields, they will not see the flag and they won't capture it, the sea, death, leaving us all apart. So Charles, son of Seumas, if you have to leave us that the Son of God will look at you from the 'teeth of the wicked' that he guides the sailing galley through wild countries, safely, swiftly and adroitly to a place of refuge, and that the heavenly lights will shine brightly upon you at night, full sailed (easily) guiding you to a country that you do not need, as a sad young man under the mantle of being a rebel, the wild dress is not to their liking. O Scotland the time has come for your head to be pouring Your Prince away in exile from you and you soaking in the grave, the murmuring of the pipes are refusing to produce music for you, and your so-sweet harpers are disdainful all the# time, the fiddlers of best wood are silent, they will not pour praise on the bosom of Charles, they will not waken the great heroes that died in the wilderness, but stir from death#at the point of greatest need. But he stopped and with red lips he kissed the young woman, and wiping kindly, the tears from her eye (said) "Take heart Flora from young Frenchman, that not a few will rise with me to win my crown, the less radical youths in Scotland who awake, with their outfits of variegated tartans and (my) cunning army, the spirit of the great plunders with fierce screeching will turn to torment, and lame troopers without strength will be in every place. But he left her on her own crying on the shore, and he went away in the boat and whilst becoming angry, his whole corpus filling with grief about to burst, sorrowful, distressed without happiness or music, the night dew lay on the beautiful pure woman, and her mind heaving on the ocean with Charles, she never saw him again to recompense for the injuries, but her love for him grew each day she was alive. (done) |
Subject: Lyr Add: Oran A 'Phrionnsa (Kathleen MacInnes) From: RunrigFan Date: 09 Jun 21 - 05:34 PM trad The Bonnie Prince Charlie and Flora MacDonald love story Calum Peutan (Calum Eirdsidh Choinnich) 1931-2009, a great piper from South Uist, learnt this song from listening to Aonghas MacDhomhnaill Bhan (Stoneybridge) working with his scythe, and as a child he would sit behind a rock and listen to him singing when he was having a rest. With many thanks to them and Alan MacDonald, Calum Antonaidh Beaton, Prof. Rob O'Maolalaigh, Decker Forrest and Dr. Uuilleam Lamb for this song (insert Cille Bhride, CD, Kathleen MacInnes) A dh'ionnsaigh cladach a' chuain ri fuar ghaoth an anmoich Thàinig Teàrlach gu dealrach air Albann 's e sgìth Cha robh reul air a bhroilleach no freiceadan 'falbh leis Ach aithne nan gorm-shùil gu dealbhaich a lì 'S mar dhaoimein san oidhche bha a' mhaighdean fo thursa 'S i cràiteach mu Theàrlaich 'bhith a' fàgail a dhùthcha 'S bu trom a bha a h-osna 's bu ghoirt deòir bho sùilean On a chunnaic i an iùbhrach a' dlùthadh ri tìr Bha a' ghealach a' snàmh thar àirde nan stùc-bheann 'S a gathannan siùbhlach far dlùth-thonn a leum Gu grad thug i 'n aire mar òigh air a ciùrradh Gu sgàil air a gnùis ghil fo shiùil neòil nan speur Dhan a' ghealach 's na reultan iad fhèin anns 's a ghorm-bhrat Bha osna na gaoithe trom choibhneil a' falbh uainn Bha gearain a' chuain an àm bualadh ri garbh-chreag Mo lèir chreach air Albainn 's ann a mharbhadh na tréun Sheas Flòraidh 's Teàrlach air tràigh nan tonn caoir-gheal 'S bu reub-critheach aoignealach an aogasg le cràdh Cha robh facal fo 'm bilean ach sileadh gun fhaochadh 'S iad aodann ri aodann a' glaodhadh le gràdh Nuair a thàining a' bhirlinn 'se a rìbhinn a thòisich Le brist-ghuthan anabaich 's seanchas gun teòma Mar chlàrsach 's a teudan gun ghleusadh gun òrdan Bha reul nam ban-òga fo dhòrunn 's fo spàirn 'S a Theàrlaich Mhic Sheumais Mhic Sheumais nan cùirtean Mar leònadh do chrùn bidh mar umbadh gun fheum Mar leònadh na treun-laoich chan èirich 's cha dhùisg iad Tha trom chadal dùint' shùileach udlaidh an eug Cha ghlac iad an lann anns a' champ' ri uchd nàmhaid Cha scap ian fir Shasainn mar as-buainn blàraibh Chan fhaic iad a' bhratach cha ghlac iad air làimh i Bidh sàile 's am bàs, air fad fàgail o chèil' 'S a Theàrlaich Mhic Sheumais ma dh' fheumas tu triall bhuain Gu coimhead Mac Dè thu a fiaclan nan daoidh Gun stiùir e an iùbhrach feadh dhlùth thonnainn fiadhaich Gu rèidh-shligheach dian-shiùbhlach fìor-luath gu tìr 'S gum boillsg' iad san oidhche ort na soillsearan nèamhaidh Gu shiùilmhòr gad stiùireadh gu dùthaich nach fheum thu Nad òganach brònach fo chòmhdach na reubal' Tha ala-bharrach èididh neo-spèiseil nan cridh' O Albainn tha 'n t-àm aig do cheann a bhi a' dòrtadh Do Phrionns' 'uat air fògradh 's tu lòchradh san uaigh Tha crònan do phioban a sior dhiuilteadh ceòl dhut 'S do chlàrsairean ro-mhilis diombach ga chuair Tha cruiteirean sgiamhach nan sior-chrannaibh sàmhach Cha dòirt iad an ceilearadh ma bhroilleach mu Theàrlaich Cha dùisg iad na treun-laoich a dh' eug anns an fhàsaich Cha mhosgail o 'n bhàs iad aig àirdead a feum Ach stad e 's le ròs-bhilean phòg e a' mhaighdinn 'S e siabadh gu coibhneil na deuran bho sùil Glac sòlas, a Fhlòraidh, a òganaich Fhrangach A dh' èireas neo-ghann rium a bhuannachd mo chrùn Tha lasgairean ana-bhunach an Albainn a dhùisgeas Le 'n trusgairean balla-bhreac 's le m' armailt math dùbailt Thèid caithream nan garbh-chreach le borb sgread gu lùireadh 'S bidh trupairean crùbach gun lùths' anns gach cùl Ach dh' fhàg e na h-aonar a' caoineadh air tràigh i 'S gun do dh' fhalbh e sa bhàta 's e fàsgadh man dòrn A' chliabhair a' lìonadh le iargain làn sgàinidh 'S e airnseulach ànrachd gun mhànran gun cheòl Laigh braonnan na h-oidhche air a' mhaighdinn ghlan àlainn 'S a h-ìnntinn air luasgan air chuan mar ri Teàrlach Chan fhaic i e tuilleadh chum na buillean a phàigheadh Ach mheudaich i gràdh dha gach là bha i beò. |
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