Showing posts with label Gaelic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gaelic. Show all posts

Friday, April 27, 2012

Lament of the Three Marys





Caoineadh Na DTrí Mhuire

(The Lament of the Three Marys)



From the Highland Sessions -
Iarla O Lionaird - vocals


Traditional Irish

 1. O Peter, apostle, have you seen my love so bright?
"Alas and woe to me"
I saw him in the midst of his enemies tonight.
"Alas and woe to me"


Come to me you two Marys (Mary Magdalene & Mary of Cleophas,) and mourne with me.
Alas and woe to me!
What have we to mourne without his bones?
Alas and woe to me!


2. Who is that fine man upon the passion tree?
Alas and woe to me!
It is your son, O Mother, don't you recognize me?
Alas and woe to me!

Is that the wee babe I borne nine months in my womb?
Alas and woe to me!
That was born in a stable when no one would give us room?
Alas and woe to me!

3. Is that the wee Son that was nourished at Mary's breast?
Alas and woe to me!
Listen, mother, and do not be sorrowful.
Alas and woe to me!

And is that the hammer that drove the nails through You?
Alas and woe to me!
Or is that the spear that pierced Your pure heart through?
Alas and woe to me!


4. * My Son, big is your burden, let your mother help you carry it.
Alas and woe to me!
Little mother, we each must carry our own cross.
Alas and woe to me!





*This song is about keening the death of Christ.
Keening was a practice common in Ireland where women would
Come to the wake and loudly lament the loss of a loved one.
There were sometimes professional keeners who did their keening for a fee.


Friday, May 6, 2011

More Mary Black


Mo Ghile Mear - Mary Black


This song, performed by Mary Black, is an Irish tribute to the "Great Pretender", Bonnie Prince Charlie, the descendant of Mary Stewart, Queen of Scots who had sought to sit on the throne of Britian. To put an end to religious persecution in Scotland, occupied Ireland, Wales, and England his loyal followers of the Jacobite movement fought for him to take possession of the crown. The Jacobite rebellion (1745) was put down and hundreds of thousands died in battle under unsurmountable odds. Under secrecy, the prince fled to the continent and died in exile. "Mo Ghile Mear" was written by Seán Clárach Mac Dhomhnaill (c. 1691-1757). This video dramatizes the Gaelic lyrics with the paintings of D'Arcy Bacon, Caravaggio, Mary Cassatt, Gustave Courbet, Julien Dupre, Winslow Homer, and J.M.W. Turner.




"Mo Ghile Mear"

Lá na mara
Lá na mara nó rabharta
Guth na dtonnta a leanadh
Guth na dtonnta a leanfad ó
Lá na mara nó lom trá
Lá na mara nó rabharta
Lá an ghainimh, lom trá
Lá an ghainimh

(The day of the sea
The day of the sea or of the high tides
To follow the voice of the waves
I would follow the voice of the waves
The day of the sea or the ebb tide
The day of the sea or of the high tides
The day of the sands, the ebb tide
The day of the sands)

Can you feel the river run?
Waves are dancing to the sun
Take the tide and face the sea
And find a way to follow me

Leave the field and leave the fire
And find the flame of your desire
Set your heart on this far shore
And sing your dream to me once more

[Chorus:]
'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear
'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear
Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin
Ó chuaigh i gcéin mo ghile mear

(He is my hero, my dashing darling
He is my Caesar, dashing darling
Rest or pleasure I did not get
Since he went far away, my darling)

Now the time has come to leave
Keep the flame and still believe
Know that love will shine through darkness
One bright star to light the wave

[Chorus]

Amhrán na farraige
Ór ar na seolta
Amhrán na farraige
Ag seoladh na bhfonnta...

(Song of the sea
Gold on the sails
Song of the sea
Sending the melodies...)

Lift your voice and raise the sail
Know that love will never fail
Know that I will sing to you
Each night as I dream of you

[Chorus]

Ag seinm na farraige
Ag seinm na farraige
(Playing the sea
Playing the sea)

Seinn... Play...

[Chorus]

Gile mear, the wind and sun
The sleep is over, dream is done
To the west where fire sets
To the gile mear, the day begun

[Chorus 2x]

Ó chuaigh i gcéin mo ghile mear
(Since he went far away, my darling)

Amhrán na farraige
Ór ar na seolta
Ag seoladh na bhfonnta
(Song of the sea
Gold on the sails
Sending the melodies)

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Be Thou My Vision, a favorite of mine



Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart
Naught be all else to me save that thou art
Thou my best thought by day or by night
Waking or sleeping thy presence my light.
Be thou my wisdom, thou my true word
I ever with thee, thou with me, Lord
Thou my great Father, I thy true Son
Thou in me dwelling, and I with thee one.

Be thou my battleshield, sword for the fight
Be thou my dignity, thou my delight
Thou my soul's shelter, thou my high tower
Raise thou me heavenward, O power of my power.

Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise
Thou mine inheritance, now and always
Thou and thou only, first in my heart
High King of heavem, my treasure thou art.

High King of heaven, after victory won
May I reach heaven's joys, O bright heaven's sun
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall
Still be my vision, O ruler of all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The original Old Irish text, Rop tú mo Baile is often attributed to Dallan Forgaill in the 6th century. The text had been a part of Irish monastic tradition for centuries before its setting to the tune, therefore, before it became an actual hymn[citation needed]. It was translated from Old Irish into English by Mary E. Byrne, M.A., in Ériu (the journal of the School of Irish Learning), in 1905. The English text was first versified by Eleanor H. Hull, in 1912, and is now the most common
Original Text "Rop Tú mo Baile"



The original texts of the now-called Be Thou My Vision are in Old Irish, similar still in style to modern Irish.

Rop tú mo baile, a Choimdiu cride:
ní ní nech aile acht Rí secht nime.
Rop tú mo scrútain i l-ló 's i n-aidche;
rop tú ad-chëar im chotlud caidche.
Rop tú mo labra, rop tú mo thuicsiu;
rop tussu dam-sa, rob misse duit-siu.
Rop tussu m'athair, rob mé do mac-su;
rop tussu lem-sa, rob misse lat-su.
Rop tú mo chathscíath, rop tú mo chlaideb;
rop tussu m'ordan, rop tussu m'airer.
Rop tú mo dítiu, rop tú mo daingen;
rop tú nom-thocba i n-áentaid n-aingel.
Rop tú cech maithius dom churp, dom anmain;
rop tú mo flaithius i n-nim 's i talmain.
Rop tussu t' áenur sainserc mo chride;
ní rop nech aile acht Airdrí nime.
Co talla forum, ré n-dul it láma,
mo chuit, mo chotlud, ar méit do gráda.
Rop tussu t' áenur m' urrann úais amra:
ní chuinngim daíne ná maíne marba.
Rop amlaid dínsiur cech sel, cech sáegul,
mar marb oc brénad, ar t' fégad t' áenur.
Do serc im anmain, do grád im chride,
tabair dam amlaid, a Rí secht nime.
Tabair dam amlaid, a Rí secht nime,
do serc im anmain, do grád im chride.
Go Ríg na n-uile rís íar m-búaid léire;
ro béo i flaith nime i n-gile gréine
A Athair inmain, cluinte mo núall-sa:
mithig (mo-núarán!) lasin trúagán trúag-sa.
A Chríst mo chride, cip ed dom-aire,
a Flaith na n-uile, rop tú mo baile.

English Translation

by Mary Byrne, 1905
Be thou my vision O Lord of my heart
None other is aught but the King of the seven heavens.
Be thou my meditation by day and night.
May it be thou that I behold even in my sleep.
Be thou my speech, be thou my understanding.
Be thou with me, be I with thee
Be thou my father, be I thy son.
Mayst thou be mine, may I be thine.
Be thou my battle-shield, be thou my sword.
Be thou my dignity, be thou my delight.
Be thou my shelter, be thou my stronghold.
Mayst thou raise me up to the company of the angels.
Be thou every good to my body and soul.
Be thou my kingdom in heaven and on earth.
Be thou solely chief love of my heart.
Let there be none other, O high King of Heaven.
Till I am able to pass into thy hands,
My treasure, my beloved through the greatness of thy love
Be thou alone my noble and wondrous estate.
I seek not men nor lifeless wealth.
Be thou the constant guardian of every possession and every life.
For our corrupt desires are dead at the mere sight of thee.
Thy love in my soul and in my heart --
Grant this to me, O King of the seven heavens.
O King of the seven heavens grant me this --
Thy love to be in my heart and in my soul.
With the King of all, with him after victory won by piety,
May I be in the kingdom of heaven O brightness of the son.
Beloved Father, hear, hear my lamentations.
Timely is the cry of woe of this miserable wretch.
O heart of my heart, whatever befall me,
O ruler of all, be thou my vision.

English Versification

by Eleanor Hull, 1912
Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart,
naught be all else to me, save that thou art;
Thou my best thought by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, thy presence my light.
Be thou my wisdom, thou my true word,
I ever with thee and thou with me Lord;
Thou my great Father, I thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with thee one.
Be thou my battle shield, sword for the fight;
Be thou my dignity, thou my delight;
Thou my soul's shelter, thou my high tower:
Raise thou me heavenward, O Power of my power.
Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise:
Thou mine inheritance now and always;
Thou and thou only first in my heart;
High King of Heaven, my treasure thou art.
High King of heaven, my victory won,
May I reach heaven's joys, O Bright Heaven's sun!;
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my vision, O Ruler of all.

Modern Irish Translations

The hymn has been translated into Irish many times. The most popular of that by Aodh Ó Dúgain of Gaoth Dobhair, County Donegal. Two verses of his translation were recorded by his grand-daughter Moya Brennan; the first time any part of his text has been publicly available. Since then, those two verses have been recorded by dozens of artists including Roma Downey & Aoife and Iona.

These verses are very close translations to the first two of the Old Irish text above.

Bí Thusa ’mo shúile a Rí mhór na ndúil
Líon thusa mo bheatha mo chéadfaí ’s mo stuaim
Bí thusa i m'aigne gach oíche ’s gach lá
Im chodladh no im dhúiseacht, líon mé le do ghrá.
Bí thusa ’mo threorú i mbriathar ’s i mbeart
Fan thusa go deo liom is coinnigh mé ceart
Glac cúram mar Athair, is éist le mo ghuí
Is tabhair domsa áit cónaí istigh i do chroí.

Modern Scottish Gaelic Translation

With Old Irish being an ancestor language of Modern Scottish Gaelic, the song was translated by Céitidh Mhoireasdan and publish by Sabhal Mòr Ostaig. Soills’ Air Mo Smuain
Dèan dhòmh-sa tuigse,
Cuir soils’ air mo smuain;
Dh’iarrainn gur Tu
Bhiodh ’gam stiùreadh gach uair;
Làmh rium ’s an oidhche
Is romhan ’s an tràth,
Réidh rium ’sa mhadainn
Agus glèidh mi tro’n latha.
Ceartas do m’ bhriathran
Agus fìrinn do m’ bheul,
Thusa toirt iùil dhomh
’S mi dlùth riut, a Dhè.
Athair, thoir gràdh dhomh,
Gabh mis’ thugad fhéin;
Cum mi ri d’ thaobh
Is bi daonnan ’nam chrè.
Dìon mi, a Thighearna,
Ri mo chliathaich ’s gach feachd;
Cum mi fo d’ sgiath
’S thoir dhomh misneachd is neart,
Fasgadh do m’ anam
Is mi ri d’uchd dlùth;
Treòraich mi dhachaigh,
Dhè chumhachdaich Thu.
Beartas cha’n fhiach leam;
No miann chlann ’nan daoin’,
Thusa na m’ fhianais
Fad làithean mo shaogh’il
Thusa, Dhè ghràsmhoir,
A-mhain na mo chrìdh’,
Le blaths is gràdh sìorraidh,
Mo thighearna ’s mo Rìgh.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

The Carmina Gadelica



The Carmina Gadelica is a collection of prayers, hymns, charms, incantations, blessings, runes, and other literary-folkloric poems and songs collected and translated by amateur folklorist Alexander Carmichael (1832–1912) in the Gaelic-speaking regions of Scotland between 1855 and 1910. The work was originally published in six volumes, with extensive footnotes containing further details as well as additional tales and folklore. Carmichael edited the first two volumes, published in 1900; volumes III and IV were edited by James Carmichael Watson (Alexander Carmichael's grandson) and published in 1940 and 1941; two final volumes, edited by Angus Matheson, were published in 1954 and 1971. A one-volume, English-language edition was published in 1992.

Initially highly praised as a monumental achievement in Scottish folklore, the Carmina Gadelica subsequently has received some criticism for Carmichael's interpretation and presentation of the material. Criticism has ranged from the opinion that Carmichael was excessive in his editing of the source material, to the accusation that some of his sources were fabricated. Some of his translations tend to sacrifice accuracy for a type of Victorian, anachronistic style which was popular at the time of the works' first publication. In other cases it is clear, from comparing his notes to the finished product, that in some cases he may have invented additional lines and verses and incorporated them into the poems he had recorded, without acknowledging these changes.

These criticisms acknowledged, the Carmina is still seen as essential to Scottish folklore studies. It is used as a source by respected folklorists such as F. Marian McNeill as well as contemporary students of Gaelic language and folklore.




http://www.smo.uhi.ac.uk/gaidhlig/corpus/Carmina/

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Traveller's Prayer


By John Renbourn


Praise to the moon, bright queen of the skies,
Jewel of the black night, the light of our eyes,
Brighter than starlight, whiter than snow,
Look down on us in the darkness below.


If well you should find us then well let us stay,
Be it seven times better when you make your way,
Be it seven times better when we greet the dawn,
So light up our way and keep us from all harm.


Give strength to the weary, give alms to the poor,
To the tainted and needy five senses restore,
Give song to our voices, give sight to our eyes,
To see the sun bow as the new moon shall rise.


Cast your eyes downwards to our dwelling place,
Three times for favour and three times for grace,
Over the dark clouds your face for to see,
To banish misfortune and keep Trinity.

In the name of our Lady, bright maiden of grace,
In the name of the King of the City of Peace,
In the name of our Saviour, who hung on the tree,
All praise to the moon, for eternity.

John Renbourn wrote the words to Traveller's Prayer after researching the ancient songs of the Carmina Gadelica . This is based loosely on a prayer called The New Moon. There are several prayers with the moon as the main subject that are in this collection of ancient works collected by Alexander Carmichael. These lyrics are posted here to introduce people to John's Music and for those like myself who like to sing around the house the music that moves us the most. To reproduce this or perform this in concert you must contact John Renbourne. To listen to this performed with John's voice and his tune is just wonderful. I advise all to buy his CDs. For the Traveller's Prayer see Ship of Fools.

Copyright John Renbourn, All Rights Reserved

John Renbourn


THE NEW MOON

Traditional




In name of the Holy Spirit of grace


In name of the Father of the City of peace,


In name of Jesus who took death off us,


Oh! in name of the Three who shield us in every need,


If well thou hast found us to-night,


Seven times better mayest thou leave us without harm,


Thou bright white Moon of the seasons,


Bright white Moon of the seasons.


A GHEALACH UR


An ainm Spiorad Naomh nan gras


An ainm Athar na Cathrach aigh,


An ainm Iosa thug dhinn am bas,


O! an ainm na Tri tha d' ar dion's gach cas,


Ma's math a fhuair thu sinn an nochd,


Seachd fearr gum fag thu sinn gun lochd,


A Ghealach gheal nan trath,


A Ghealach gheal nan trath.


Collected by Alexander Carmichael in the Highlands of Scotland and translated by him as well.

A GHEALACH UR

Notes by Carmichael from the 19th Century.


This little prayer is said by old men and women in the islands of Barra. When they first see the new moon they make their obeisance to it as to a great chief. The women curtsey gracefully and the men bow low, raising their bonnets reverently. The bow of the men is peculiar, partaking somewhat of the curtsey of the women, the left knee being bent and the right drawn forward towards the middle of the left leg in a curious but not inelegant manner.


The fragment of moon-worship is now a matter of custom rather than of belief, although it exists over the whole British Isles. In Cornwall the people nod to the new moon and turn silver in their pockets. In Edinburgh cultured men and women turn the rings on their fingers and make their wishes. A young English lady told the writer that she had always been in the habit of bowing to the new moon, till she had been bribed out of it by her father, a clergyman, putting money in her pocket lest her lunar worship should compromise him with his bishop. She naively confessed, however, that among the free mountains of Loch Etive she reverted to the good customs of her fathers, from which she derived great satisfaction!


http://www.ramshornstudio.com/traveller_s_prayer.htm

Friday, June 19, 2009

The Song I Can't Shake

I have been singing this for days and it won't leave me! I learned it from Ian Benzie. I feel haunted!

Carrickfergus



C F G C Am

I wish I was in Carrickfergus

Dm G C

Only for nights in Ballygrand
F G C Am

I would swim over the deepest ocean

Dm G C

Only for nights in Ballygrand.

Am G

But the sea is wide and I can't swim over,

C F G

And neither have I the wings to fly

F G C

If I could find me a handsome boatsman

Am Dm G C

To ferry me over to my love and die.



Now in Kilkenny, it is reported,

They've marble stones as black as ink

With gold and silver I would support her

But I'll sing no more now till I get a drink

I'm drunk today, but then I'm seldom sober,

A handsome rover from town to town

Ah, but I'm sick now, my days are numbered.

Come all ye young lads and lay me down.



Gaelic Lyrics:

Do bhí bean uasal seal dá lua liom,
's chuir sí suas díom fóraíl ghéar;
Do ghabhas lastuas di sna bailte móra
Mar go dtug sí svae ['sway'] léi os comhair an tsaoil.
Ach dá bhfaighinnse a ceann siúd faoi áirsí an teampaill,
Do bheinn gan amhras ar m'ábhar féin;
Ach anois táim tinn lag 's gan fáil ar leigheas agam.
Is go mbeidh mo mhuintir ag gol im' dhéidh.
Do shiúlaíos Éire is an Mhumhain le chéile
Is cois Beann Éadair ag lorg mná,
Is ní fhaca éinne ar fhaid an méid sin
Do dhein mé phléasáil ach mo Mhalaí Bán.
Mná na hÉireann do chur le chéile
Is nach mór an t-aeraíocht dom san a rá;
'Sé dúirt gach éinne a chonaic mo spéirbhean.
Go dtug sí svae léi ó Chontae an Chláir.
Tá an ghrian ag imeacht is tá an teas ag tréigean
Is an tart ní féidir liom féin do chlaoi,
Mar go bhfuil an geall orm ó Shamhain go Féabhraí
Is ní bheidh sí reidh liom go dtí Lá Mhichíl;
Ach geallaim féin daoibh nach mar gheall ar an méid sin
A d'iontaíos féinig i gcoinne na dí,
Ach mar gheall ar mo chéad searc a dhein mé thréigean -
Chuaigh sí ag bailiú déirce dá clann iníon.
Agus táim tinn breoite is mo chos dheas leonta
Ó ghabh an ógbhean úd tharam isteach;
D'iarras póigín uair nó dhó uirthi,
For I'd long to roam with my own sweetheart.
For I'm tired of drinking and I'm seldom sober!
I'm a constant rover from town to town!
But now I'm dying and my days are over -
Come Malaí, a stóirín, and lay me down!

In modern times, "Carrickfergus" became known after actor Peter O'Toole related it to Dominic Behan, who put it in print and made a recording in the mid-1960s. The middle verse was allegedly written by Behan.

The song has been recorded by many well known performers including Declan Affley, Joan Baez, Dominic Behan, Charlotte Church,Ian Benzie, De Dannan, Joe Dassin (as Mon village du bout du monde), The Dubliners, Bryan Ferry, Brian Kennedy, Declan Galbraith, Lisa Kelly, Loreena McKennitt, Órla Fallon, Van Morrison, Bryn Terfel and Ronan Keating. The song is a popular request at folk festivals and concerts, and was played at the 1999 funeral of John F. Kennedy, Jr.


English Lyrics

I wish I was in Carrickfergus, only for nights in Ballygran
I would swim over the deepest ocean, the deepest ocean for my love to find
But the sea is wide and I cannot swim over and neither have I wings to fly
If I could find me a handsome boatman to ferry me over to my love and die
My childhood days bring back sad reflections of happy times I spent so long ago
My boyhood friends and my own relations have all passed on now like melting snow
But I'll spend my days in endless roaming soft is the grass my bed is free
Ah to be back in Carrickfergus on that long road down to the sea
And in Kilkenny it is reported there are marble stones as black as ink
With gold and silver I would support her, but I'll sing no more now till I get a drink
I'm drunk today and I'm seldom sober, a handsome rover from town to town
Ah, but I'm sick now, my days are numbered so come all ye young men and lay me down


The Rams Horn

The Rams Horn on Facebook