Fuigheall

02:44
James Ruff
Mairi MacLeod

Story

Performed at BEMF Fringe 2013

Lyrics

Fuigheall

A Fragment

Thèid mi le m' dheoin
Do dhùthaich Mhic Leoid,
M'iùl air a' mhòr luachach sin.

With right good will I'll sail
to the land of MacLeod,
steering a course
for that man of great worth.

Bu chòir dhomh gum bi
M'eòlas 'san tìr
Leòdach mur piil cruadal mi;

It is right that I shall know
my way in MacLeod's domain,
if hard weather
repulse me not.

Siùbhlaidh mi an iar
Troimh dhùbhlachd nan sian
Do'n tùr g'am bi triall thuathcheathairn,

Westward I'll voyage
through the lowering
of the storms,
to the tower
to which tenantry resort,

O'n chualas an sgeul
Buadhach gun bhreug
Rinn acain mo chlèibhe fhuadachadh.

Since I have heard
the precious news and true,
that hath banished
the pang in my breast

Chì mi MacLeoid,
Is prìseil an t-òg
Rìomhach gu mòr buadhalach,

MacLeod I shall behold,
that youth high in esteem,
comely of aspect
and rich in virtues;

Bho Olghar nan lann
Chuireadh sròiltean ri crann,
Is Leòdaich an dream uabharra.

Sprung from Olgar
of the sword-blades,
that would raise satin pennons to mast —MacLeods are of that haughty race!

Eiridh na fuinn
Ghleusta air na suinn,
Is feumail ri àm cruadail iad,

Tuneful airs shall rise
in honour of the warriors,
right handy in time of hardihood are they;

Na fiùranan garg,
An am rùsgadh nan arm
Is cliuiteach an t-ainm
fhuaras leibh.

The stern young warriors
that when weapons are bared
have won them
a name renowned.

Sìol Tormoid nan sgiath
Foirmeileach fial,
Dh'eireadh do shluagh luathlàmhach;

The targe-bearing
race of Tormod,
stately and generous,
thy swift-handed host
would arise.

Dealradh nam pios,
Torman nam piob,
Is dearbh' gum bu leibh an dualachas.

Gleam of silver cups,
roar of the pipes —
clearly ye are your sires' worthy sons!

Thàinig teachdair do'n tir
Gu macanta min,
Is ait leam gach ni chualas leam,

To land came a courier,
gently and kindly
(joyful to me
every word that I heard),

O Dhùn Bheagain nan steud
Anns am freagair luchd-theud
Bheir greis air gach sgeul buaidh-ghlòireach.

From Dunvegan of steeds,
wherein to each other
respond harpers giving a spell
of each choice-worded tale.

An uair chuireadh na laoich
Loingeas air chaol
Turus ri gaoith ghluaiste leibh,

When the heroes
set the craft afloat
upon the kyle,
a voyage into the wind
ye would ply then.

O bharraibh nan crann
Gu tarruing nam ball
Teannachadh teann suas rithe;

From the mast-heads aloft
to the halyards below,
do ye keep her
close in to the wind.

lomairt gu leoir
Mar ri Mac Leoid
Chàraich fo shròl uain-dhaite i,
Frolic in plenty is found
with MacLeod,
who hath decked her
with green-hued satin.  

Bho Aros an fhion
Gu talla nam pios:
Gum beannaich mo righ
an t-uasal ud.

From Aros of wine
to the hall of silver goblets —
the blessing of my king
on that noble one!

 

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