Spiorad a’ Charthannais The Spirit of Kindliness (excerpt)
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Spiorad a’ Charthannais The Spirit of Kindliness (excerpt)

O, criothnaich measg do shòlasan,
Fhir-fhòirneirt làidir chruaidh!
Dè ’m bàs no ’m pian a dhòirtear ort
Airson do leòn air sluagh?
’S e osnaich bhròin nam bantraichean
Tha sèid do shaidhbhreis suas;
Gach cupan fìon a dh’òlas tu,
’S e deòir nan ainnis truagh.

Ged thachradh oighreachd mhòr agad
’S ged ghèill na slòigh fod smachd,
Tha ’m bàs is laghan geur aige,
’S gu feum thu gèill da reachd;
Siud uachdaran a dh’òrdaicheas
Co-ionnan còir gach neach,
’S mar oighreachd bheir e lèine dhut
’S dà cheum de thalamh glas.

’S e siud as deireadh suarach dhut,
Thus’, fhir an uabhair mhòir,
Led shumanan ’s led bhàirlinnean
A’ cumail chàich fo bhròn;
Nuair gheibh thu ’n oighreachd shàmhach ud,
Bidh d’àrdan beag gu leòr;
Cha chluinnear trod a’ bhàillidh ann
’S cha chuir maor grànd’ air ròig.

’N sin molaidh a’ chnuimh shnàigeach thu,
Cho tàirceach ’s a bhios d’fheòil,
Nuair gheibh i air do chàradh thu
Gu sàmhach air a bòrd;
Their i, ‘’S e fear mèath tha ’n seo
Tha math do bhiast nan còs,
On rinn e caol na ceudan
Gus e fhèin a bhiathadh dhòmhs’.’

O tremble midst your pleasures,
you oppressor, hard and strong!
What pain or death can justly be
your reward for people’s wrongs?
The sorrowful sighs of widows
are what inflates your wealth;
every cup of wine you drink
is the tears of each poor wretch.

Though your estate should be so vast,
and hosts should yield to you,
death has the very strictest laws,
and you must obey its rule.
That’s the lord who will ordain
an equal share for all;
he’ll grant a shroud as your estate,
and two paces of green sward.

That will be your lowly end,
you man of haughtiest ways,
with your notices and summonses,
keeping others in their pain;
when you receive that quiet estate,
your pride will be cut down;
no factor there will make a row,
nor will a vile officer frown.

Then the crawling worm will praise you,
for the tastiness of your flesh,
when it finds you stretched straight out
on its board without a breath;
it will say, ‘This one is plump,
just right for crevice beast,
since he made many hundreds thin
to make for me a feast!’

 

    iain mac a’ ghobhainn/ John Smith
c.1848-1881

Ealaíontóir/Artist:
Peannaire/Calligrapher:
Aistritheoir/Translator:
Ainmníodh ag/Nominator:
Hughie O’Donoghue
Louise Donaldson
Donald E. Meek
Donald MacAulay

 

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