Showing posts with label Scotland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Scotland. Show all posts

Sunday, January 1, 2012

The Battle to Come from Carmina Gadelica


“The Celtic missionaries allowed the pagan stock to stand, grafting their Christian cult thereon. Hence the blending of the pagan and the Christian religions in these poems, which to many minds will constitute their chief charm. Gaelic lore is full of this blending and grafting--nor are they confined to the literature of the people, but extend indeed to their music, sculpture, and architecture. At Rodail, Harris, is a cruciform church of the thirteenth century. The church abuts upon a broad square tower of no great height. The tower is called 'Tur Chliamain,' tower of Clement, 'Cliaman Mor Rodail,' Great Clement of Rodail. Tradition says that the tower is older than the church, and the masonry confirms the tradition.

There are sculptures within the church of much originality of design and of great beauty of execution, but the sculptures without are still more original and interesting. Round the sides of the square tower are the figures of birds and beasts, reptiles and fishes, and of men and women representing phallic worship. Here pagan cult joins with Christian faith, the East with the West, the past with the present. The traveller from India to Scotland can here see, on the cold, sterile rocks of Harris, the petrified symbols of a faith left living behind him on the hot, fertile plains of Hindustan. He can thus in his own person bridge over a space of eight thousand miles and a period of two thousand years.”

Alexander Carmichael


AN CATH NACH TAINIG

IOSA Mhic Mhoire eighim air th’ ainm,
Is air ainm Eoin ostail ghradhaich,
Is air ainm gach naoimh ’s an domhan dearg,
Mo thearmad ’s a chath nach tainig,
     Mo thearmad ’s a chath nach tainig.

  
Duair theid am beul a dhunadh,
Duair theid an t-suil a dhruideadh,
Duair sguireas an anail da struladh,
Duair sguireas an cridhe da bhuille,
     Sguireas an cridhe de bhuille.

Duair theid am Breitheamh dh’ an chathair,
Is a theid an tagradh a shuidheach,
Iosa Mhic Mhoire cobhair air m’ anam,
A Mhicheil mhin gobh ri mo shiubhal.
     Iosa Mhic Mhoire cobhair air m’ anam!
     A Mhicheil mhin gobh ri mo shiubhal!


THE BATTLE TO COME

JESUS, Thou Son of Mary, I call on Thy name,
And on the name of John the apostle beloved,
And on the names of all the saints in the red domain,
To shield me in the battle to come,
     To shield me in the battle to come.

When the mouth shall be closed,
When the eye shall be shut,
When the breath shall cease to rattle,
When the heart shall cease to throb,
     When the heart shall cease to throb.

When the Judge shall take the throne,
And when the cause is fully pleaded,
O Jesu, Son of Mary, shield Thou my soul,
O Michael fair, acknowledge my departure.
     O Jesu, Son of Mary, shield Thou my soul!
     O Michael fair, receive my departure!

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Morning Prayer from Carmina Gadelica


“'There were many sad things done then, for those were the days of foolish doings and of foolish people. Perhaps, on the day of the Lord, when they came out of church, if indeed they went into church, the young men would go to throw the stone, or to toss the cabar, or to play shinty, or to run races, or to race horses on the strand, the young maidens looking on the while, ay, and the old men and women.' 'And have you no music, no singing, no dancing now at your marriages?' 'May the Possessor keep you! I see that you are a stranger in Lewis, or you would not ask such a question,' the woman exclaimed with grief and surprise in her tone. 'It is long since we abandoned those foolish ways in Ness, and, indeed, throughout Lewis. In my young days there was hardly a house in Ness in which there was not one or two or three who could play the pipe, or the fiddle, or the trump. And I have heard it said that there were men, and women too, who could play things they called harps, and lyres, and bellow-pipes, but I do not know what those things were.'
Alexander Carmichael

Sunday, October 16, 2011

The Soul Shrine from Carmina Gadelica


“The Soul Shrine is sung by the people as they retire to rest.  They say that the angels of heaven guard them in sleep and shield them from harm.  Should any untoward even occur to themselves or to their flocks, they avow that the cause was the deadness of their hearts, the coldness of their faith, and the fewness of their prayers.
Alexander Carmichael


A CHOICH ANAMA

 

HE tabhair aithne da f ainghle beannaichte,

Cairn a chumail air an staing-sa nochd,

Comachadh crabhaidh, tabhaidh, teannachaidh,

Chumas a choich anama-sa bho lochd.

 

Teasruig a Dhe an t-ardrach seo a nochd,

lad fein 's an cuid 's an cliu,

Tar iad o eug, o gliabhadh, o lochd,

''S o thoradh na farmaid 's na mi-ruin.

 

Tabhair duinn, a Dhe na fois,

Taingealachd an cois ar call,

Bhi coimhlionadh do Jagh a bhos,

'S tu fein a mhealtuinn thall.

THE SOUL SHRINE

God, give charge to Thy blessed angels,
To keep guard around this stead to-night,
A band sacred, strong, and steadfast.
That will shield this soul-shrine from harm.

Safeguard Thou, God, this household to-night,
Themselves and their means and their fame,
Deliver them from death, from distress, from harm,
From the fruits of envy and of enmity.

Give Thou to us, O God of peace,
Thankfulness despite our loss,
To obey Thy statutes here below.
And to enjoy Thyself above.


Sunday, June 5, 2011

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

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Carmina Gadelica

Born in Edinburgh, Scotland in 1832, Alexander Carmichael was a writer and journalist who is best known for his collection Carmina Gadelica, “The Hymns of the Gael.”  The Carmina Gadelica is a fascinating work in which Carmichael unites the Christian and pre-Christian spirituality of the Scottish Isles.   Excerpts appear frequently in the Celtic prayer book I read daily, so I’ve decided to post pieces on my blog, possibly weekly.  This first piece is the “Rune Before Prayer.”  As Carmichael explains it, 
“The old people in the Isles sing this or some other short hymn before prayer. Sometimes the hymn and the prayer are intoned in low tremulous unmeasured cadences like the moving and moaning, the soughing and the sighing, of the ever-murmuring sea on their own wild shores.  They generally retire to a closet, to an outhouse, to the lee of a knoll, or to the shelter of a dell, that they may not be seen nor heard of men. I have known men and women of eighty, ninety, and a hundred years of age continue the practice of their lives in going from one to two miles to the seashore to join their voices with the voicing, of the waves and their praises with the praises of the ceaseless sea.”