Lyrics for Deirdre's Lament
George Seto
A friend of mine who grew up in Uist recalls this song from her
childhood. She doesn't recall the words for a song she believes was
called Deirdre's Lament or Deirdre's Farewell to Scotland. She's also not
sure, but thinks there might be a Gaelic version as well.
Can anyone supply the words or an idea where the words for this song
might be found?
Bidh mi 'gad fhaicinn!!!
<<<<< Tha mi as mo rian >>>>>
George / Seo\ras Seto
Internet Address: af...@chebucto.ns.ca
url: http://www.chebucto.ns.ca/~af221/
Rick Deevey
On 14 Feb 1997 23:10:59 GMT, af...@chebucto.ns.ca (George Seto) wrote:
>A friend of mine who grew up in Uist recalls this song from her
>childhood. She doesn't recall the words for a song she believes was
>called Deirdre's Lament or Deirdre's Farewell to Scotland. She's also not
>sure, but thinks there might be a Gaelic version as well.
>
>Can anyone supply the words or an idea where the words for this song
>might be found?
George,
From my copy of Penguin Books "A Celtic Miscellany" by Kenneth
Hurlstone Jackson, the English translation (sorry, no Gaelic
original):
Deirdre's Farewell to Scotland
A beloved land is that land in the east, Scotland with its wonders: I
should not have come hither out of it if I had not come with Noi/se.
Beloved are Du/n Fidhgha and Du/n Finn, beloved is the stronghold
above them, beloved is Inis Draighen, and beloved is Du/n Suibhne.
The wood of Cuan, to which Ainnle used to go, alas! Short we thought
the time, I and Noi/se on the shores of Scotland.
Glen Lai/gh, I used to sleep beneath the shapely rock; fish and
venison and badger's fat, that was my food in Glen Lai/gh.
Glen Massan, tall was its wild garlic, bright its grasses; we used to
have a broken sleep above the wooded rivermouth of Massan.
Glen Etive, there I raised my first house; lovely is it's wood, and
when it rises a cattle-fold of the sun is Glen Etive.
Glenn Urchai/n, that was a straight glen of fair ridges; no man of his
age was prouder than Noi/se in Glenn Urchai/n.
Glen Daruel, happy is any man who is its native; sweet is the voice of
the cuckoo on the bending bough on the peak above Glen Daruel.
Beloved is Draighen with its firm beach, beloved is its water in the
pure sand; I should not have come out of it from the east if I had not
come with my beloved.
Irish; author unknown; fifteenth century
I found another one in Frank Delany's "Legends of the Celts", called
"Deirdre's Lament for the Sons of Usna":
The lions of the hill are gone
And I am left alone, alone
Dig the grave both wide and deep
For I am sick and fain would sleep!
The falcons of the wood are flown,
And I am left alone, alone
Dig the grave both deep and wide,
And let us slumber, side by side.
The dragons of the rock are sleeping,
Sleep that wakes not for our weeping:
Dig the grave and make it ready.
Lay me on my true love's body.
(Wow! Happy Valentine's Day, folks....)
Hope this helps.
Rick Deevey
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