LOCHIALL 'S LOCHABAR. "AN LATHA 'CHI 'S NACH FHAIC." Soraidh bh' uam thar stuadhan mòr-chuain Dream nach meataichear le cruadal, 'S dh' aindeoin braise 's nimh an fhuathais, A measg mhaithibh ard na rìoghachd, Dileas ann an am ur h-éiginn. 'S e so Domhnull nan tri Domhnuill— 'S na cuis bheo-shlainte do 'n fhèumach. 'Measg gach mùthadh cleachdaidh, 's foghlum, Tha Lochiall na Thriath air daoine 'Dhearbh gum b'fhaoineis gun bhi reidh riu. Dh' eireadh leis do Chlann nan Gaidheal, A mac an àite 'n athar fhuaradh, 'N gealladh 'thugadh 'dhaoine caoimhneil— Durachd mhaith a chridhe bh 'uamsa Duthaich m' athraiche 's mo chairdeis Bi'dh mo bhaigh dh'i gus an eug mi. MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA. ABRACH, a Shliochd Shomhairle-Ruaidh. JOHN MACCODRUM. III. HAVING now disposed of all the Satires by MacCodrum which we proposed to discuss, we proceed to the consideration of those of his poems in which he assumes an ethical, or didactic standpoint. This class, comprehending though it does only three poems, makes up for the smallness of its number, by the high excellence of its quality. Caraid'us Namhaid an uisge bheatha is a long metrical dialogue, between the friend and enemy of whisky. From the mode in which the controversy is conducted, it is clear that, so far as morality is concerned, the Namhaid has the best of the argument. He is thoroughly in earnest, and depicts in graphic language, the worst results of intoxication. The Caraid, on the other hand, scarcely makes an attempt to strengthen his position, by the advocacy of moderation. He speaks of the pleasures of jovial drinking, even to excess, and seems to delight in picturing to himself and to his opponent the power possessed by John Barleycorn "to steep the senses in forgetfulness." The Namhaid takes the view of a stern uncompromising ascetic; in fact, corresponds in all essential respects to the member of a modern I.O.G.T., while the Caraid, taking up the nunc est bibeudum point of view, looks at the matter in the light and careless fashion of the epicurean, to whom pleasure is the highest good. Between the extremes of the roystering reveller, and him who looks at alcohol as the accursed thing, the poet does not indicate that via media, which is equally removed from excess and total abstinence. Yet although the bard's sympathies, as a moralist, are evidently along with the Namhaid, with whom he clearly wishes that the victory should remain, at the same time it is apparent that he has a warm side to the Caraid also, and a secret satisfaction in making him describe the pleasing influence of the barley bree, in dispelling cold and care, cowardice and sorrow-at least for a time. Were he speaking of his own sincere convictions, as well as of the practice of his life, he would doubtless have steered between Scylla and Charybdis, and while guarding against making shipwreck of his moral teaching upon the rock of drunkenness, would with equal care have shunned the shallows of self-righteous teetotalism. The whole poem exhibits a rare mastery of the language, as well as purity of diction, a vein of genial humour and a-sustained rhythm throughout. It is original in conception, and must always hold a high place in the poetic literature of the Gael. The two last verses contain the summing up of the arguments pro and con, and, in the words which the poet puts into the mouth of Caraid, he manifests an intimate acquaintance with the modus operandi in whisky distillation, a knowledge of which was no uncommon accomplishment in those olden times. In Oran na h-oige human life, from infancy to youth, is compared to the progress of the Seasons. The characteristics of each of the months, as of their influence upon the different stages of life, are accurately described, till at last, when the poet comes to summer, he turns to the young man rejoicing in the buoyancy of youth, the summer of man's career, asks him how long does he expect that the pride of life can endure, and answers it in the lines Nuair a dh'fhalbhas an samhradh ciuin blath, Even youth, when its sun shines fairest, must not boast nor glory in the things of sense, for the last stern fact of existence shall some day, perhaps soon, have to be faced. And when that dark problem has been solved, where then is the tongue that uttered guile, and the heart that harboured hatred; where those eyes, the windows through which desire entered the soul, the arm that performed feats of strength, the body in which dwelt the haughty soul? All these questions MacCodrum asks, with the solemnity of one who has felt the deep mystery of life, and is profoundly conscious that death is the most certain of all facts. Over the brightest lives does that "shadow fear'd of man spread his dark cold mantle, breaking many fair companionships, and dulling the murmur of gentle lips. He is no respecter of persons, and the proudest of the earth must be subject to his sway. Thou art where friend meets friend, Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest; Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend The Roman poet, in one of his meditative moods, sings :— Pallida mors, æquo pulsat pede, Tabernaque pauperum regumque turres, and the truth which Mrs Hemans and the Venusian bard have embodied in these lines, John MacCodrum expresses in the last verse of his song to youth, in words that are no less apt and telling— Gur e 'n gaisgeach nach gealtach, am bàs Of Oran na h-Aoise we cannot say much that is not well known already to the readers of the "Beauties of Gaelic Poetry," a work with which, I presume, every true Highlander is familiar. This is perhaps the best which MacCodrum ever composed, and it would, I think, be difficult to point out a better Gaelic poem of similar length and subject. Few bards, indeed, in any language, have given a truer or more graphic picture of that age which "slips into the bare and slipper'd pantaloon, when the grasshopper has become a burden, and the wheel is broken at the cistern." It is not the picture of a green old age which MacCodrum draws, but one of ideal decrepitude and feebleness, into which ills and sorrows, more numerous than the plagues of Egypt, have been crowded. It was more than likely that it was composed when he himself was tottering down the vale of years, and the lengthening shadow had fallen on his path, for the expression throughout has the ring of genuine experience. It is true, indeed, that hardly any actual instance can realise that catalogue of evils which the bard enumerates in his vivid description; nor is it likely that the evening of his own life was the mournful, solitary thing which he describes, but probably some feeling, deeper and more personal than mere observation of life, would have suggested the sentiment of the lines. Aois ghliogach gun chàil, 'S tu 's miosa no 'm bàs, 'S tu 's tric a rinn tràill dhe 'n treun-fhear. (Shaky age without zest, Thou art worse than death, Thou did'st oft into a slave A. MD. WE'LL HAVE OUR HIGHLANDS RIGHTED YET. SUNDERLAND. We'll have our Highlands righted yet, We'll have our Highlands righted yet, We'll have our Highlands righted yet, And thousands be delighted yet: We have our Highlands righted yet. WM. ALLAN. |