A Troubadour that hated sorrow
Beneath his lady’s window came,
And thus he sung his last good-morrow:
“My arm it is my country’s right,
My heart is in my true-love’s bower;
Gaily for love and fame to fight
Befits the gallant Troubadour.”
And while he marched with helm on head
And harp in hand, the descant rung,
As faithful to his favourite maid,
The minstrel-burden still he sung:
“My arm it is my country’s right,
My heart is in my lady’s bower;
Resolved for love and fame to fight
I come, a gallant Troubadour.”
Even when the battle-roar was deep,
With dauntless heart he hewed his way,
’Mid splintering lance and falchion-sweep,
And still was heard his warrior-lay:
“My life it is my country’s right,
My heart is in my lady’s bower;
For love to die, for fame to fight,
Becomes the valiant Troubadour.”
Alas! upon the bloody field
He fell beneath the foeman’s glaive,
But still reclining on his shield,
Expiring sung the exulting stave:—
“My life it is my country’s right,
My heart is in my lady’s bower;
For love and fame to fall in fight
Becomes the valiant Troubadour.”
PIBROCH OF DONALD DHU.
[This is a very ancient pibroch belonging to Clan MacDonald. The words
of the set, theme, or melody, to which the pipe variations are applied,
run thus in Gaelic:—
Piobaireachd Dhonuil Dhuidh, piobaireachd Dhonuil;
Piobaireachd Dhonuil Dhuidh, piobaireachd Dhonuil;
Piobaireachd Dhonuil Dhuidh, piobaireachd Dhonuil;
Piob agus bratach air faiche Inverlochi.
The pipe-summons of Donald the Black,
The pipe-summons of Donald the Black,
The war-pipe and the pennon are on the gathering-place at Inverlochy.]
PIBROCH of Donuil Dhu,
Pibroch of Donuil,
Wake thy wild voice anew,
Summon Clan Conuil.
Come away, come away,
Hark to the summons!
Come in your war array,
Gentles and commons.
Come from deep glen, and
From mountain so rocky,
The war-pipe and pennon
Are at Inverlochy.
Come every hill-plaid, and
True heart that wears one,
Come every steel blade, and
Strong hand that bears one.
Leave untended the herd,
The flock without shelter;
Leave the corpse uninterr’d,
The bride at the altar;
Leave the deer, leave the steer,
Leave nets and barges:
Come with your fighting gear,
Broadswords and targes.
Come as the winds come, when
Forests are rended;
Come as the waves come, when
Navies are stranded:
Faster come, faster come,
Faster and faster,
Chief, vassal, page and groom,
Tenant and master.
Fast they come, fast they come;
See how they gather!
Wide waves the eagle plume,
Blended with heather.
Cast your plaids, draw your blades,
Forward each man set!
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,
Knell for the onset!
FOOTNOTES.
{9} This eText comes from a book (_Pike Country Ballads and Other
Poems_, 1891 George Routledge) which contains a number of poems by John
Hay. These have been released separately by Project Gutenberg under the
title “Pike Country Ballads and Other Poems” by John Hay. They are not
included here to avoid duplication.
{164} The literal translation of _Fuentes d’Honoro_.