The Guardian Angel from Carmina Gadelica

“Let me briefly describe the 'ceilidh' [a literary entertainment where stories and tales, poems and ballads, are rehearsed and recited, and songs are sung, conundrums are put, proverbs are quoted, and many other literary matters are related and discussed] as I have seen it.

“In a crofting townland there are several story-tellers who recite the oral literature of their predecessors. The story-tellers of the Highlands are as varied in their subjects as are literary men and women elsewhere. One is a historian narrating events simply and concisely; another is a historian with a bias, colouring his narrative according to his leanings. One is an inventor, building fiction upon fact, mingling his materials, and investing the whole with the charm of novelty and the halo of romance. Another is a reciter of heroic poems and ballads, bringing the different characters before the mind as clearly as the sculptor brings the figure before the eye. One gives the songs of the chief poets, with interesting accounts of their authors, while another, generally a woman, sings, to weird airs, beautiful old songs, some of them Arthurian. There are various other narrators, singers, and speakers, but I have never heard aught that should not be said nor sung.”

Alexander Carmichael

AN T-AINGHEAL DIONA AINGHIL Dhe a fhuair mo churam Bho Athair cumh na trocaireachd, Ciobaireachd caon cro nan naomh Dheanamh dha mo thaobh a nochd; Fuad uam gach buar is cunnart Cuart mi air cuan na dobhachd, Anns a chunglait, chaimleit, chumhan, Cum mo churach fein an comhnuidh. Bi ’na do lasair leith romham, Bi ’na do reuil iuil tharam, Bi ’na do ro reidh fotham, Is ’na do chiobair caomh mo dheoghann, An diugh, an nochd agus gu suthann. Tha mi sgith is mi air m’ aineol, Treoraich mi do thir nan aingheal; Liom is tim a bhi dol dachaidh Do chuirt Chriosd, do shith nam flathas.

THE GUARDIAN ANGEL THOU angel of God who hast charge of me From the dear Father of mercifulness, The shepherding kind of the fold of the saints To make round about me this night; Drive from me every temptation and danger, Surround me on the sea of unrighteousness, And in the narrows, crooks, and straits, Keep thou my coracle, keep it always. Be thou a bright flame before me, Be thou a guiding star above me, Be thou a smooth path below me, And be a kindly shepherd behind me, To-day, to-night, and for ever. I am tired and I a stranger, Lead thou me to the land of angels; For me it is time to go home To the court of Christ, to the peace of heaven.