by Se醤 Cl醨ach Mac Domhnaill Seal da rabhas im' mhaighdean shé–•mh, 'S anois im' bhaintreach chaite thré–•th, Mo ché–•le ag treabhadh na dtonn go tré–n De bharr na gcnoc is i n-imigcé–•n. 'S⌦ㄲ㬸 mo laoch, mo Ghile Mear, 'S⌦ㄲ㬸 mo Chaesar, Ghile Mear, Suan n⌦㈲㬳 sé–n n⌦㈲㬱 bhfuaireas fé–•n ⌦〲㬳 chuaigh i gcé–•n mo Ghile Mear. BéŸ'se buan ar buaidhirt gach l⌦㤱㬰, Ag caoi go cruaidh 's ag tuar na ndeé« Mar scaoileadh uaim an buachaill be⌦㤱㬰 'S n⌦㈲㬳 r韔mhtar tuairisc uaidh, mo bhr髇. N⌦㈲㬱 labhrann cuach go suairc ar n骾n Is néŸ' guth gadhair i gcoillte cn⌦㤱㬰, N⌦㈲㬳 maidin shamhraidh i gcleanntaibh ceoigh ⌦〲㬳 d'imthigh uaim an buachaill be⌦㤱㬰. Marcach uasal uaibhreach 骻, Gas gan gruaim is suairce snéª'h, Glac is luaimneach, luath i ngleo Ag teascadh an tslua 's ag tuargain treon. Seinntear stair ar chlairsigh cheoil 's l韔ntair té†nte c醨t ar bord Le hinntinn ard gan chaim, gan che⌦㤱㬰 Chun saoghal is slé†nte d' fhaghé†l dom le髆han. Ghile mear 'sa seal faoi chumha, 's Eire go lé–•r faoi chl骳aibh dubha; Suan n⌦㈲㬳 sé–n n⌦㈲㬱 bhfuaireas fé–•n ⌦〲㬳 luaidh i gcé–•n mo Ghile Mear. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A literal translation by J. Mark Sugars 1997 Once I was a gentle maiden, But now I am a spent, worn-out widow, My consort strongly plowing the waves Over the hills and far away. He is my hero, my Gallant Darling, He is my Caesar, a Gallant Darling; I've found neither rest nor fortune Since my Gallant Darling went far away. Every day I am constantly enduring grief, Weeping nitterly and shedding tears, Because my lively lad has left me And no news is told of him - alas! The cuckoo does not sing cheerfully at noon And the sound of hounds is not heard in nut-tree woods Nor summer morning in misty glen Since my lively boy went away from me. Noble, proud young horseman, Youth without gloom, of pleasant countenance, A swift-moving fist, nimble in a fight, Slaying the enemy and smiting the strong. Let a strain be played on musical harps, And let many quarts be filled on the table, With high spirit, without fault, without gloom, That my lion may receive long life and health. Gallant Darling for a while under sorrow, And Ireland completely under black cloacks, I have found neither rest nor fortune Since my Gallant Darling went far away
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