King Arthur and the Captive Maiden
(TRANSLATED FROM THE GAELIC. [1]) [1] Taken down in Gaelic by Dewar.
King Arthur on a journey went,
His men and he on hunting bent.
Came to the hill for victories known;
He, and Sir Balva, armed alone.
The King of Britain dreamed at night
Of fairest maid ’neath Heaven’s light.
Her face’s beauteous hues so clear
More than all gold to him were dear.
Yet all unknown where dwelt the maid,
His doubt and awe the search delayed.
For better were a battle stern
Than, blindly wandering, still to yearn.
Then spoke Sir Balva, kindly, meek,
“It is my wish this maid to seek.
Let me now take my Squire and hound,
And search until the maid be found.”
Then seven weeks, with toil and pain,
We travelled wearily the main.
No harbour gave our ship a home,
No land kept off the drifting foam.
But high above the rough sea wave,
We saw a smooth-walled castle brave.
Its gables shone with glass. We laughed,
“Ah many a drink-horn there is quaffed.”
Then sailing to its base there fell
A chain that lashed the ocean swell.
I seized it, fearless, hand o’er hand
I climbed upon the frowning land,
And seated on a golden chair,
I found a maiden wondrous fair,
Holding a mirror on her knee,
Her vesture beautiful to see.
I blest her, whose sad voice replied,
“Grief here thy blessing doth betide.
O comer from the sea, thou’lt feel
The heart of stone, the blade of steel”
Though merciless he be, yet know,
His sword can deal my heart no blow.
His love or hatred I despise
If gained the favour of thine eyes.
“The giant’s star-white sword alone,”
Said she, “can wring from him a groan.
O hide thee in some place secure,
Or, gallant knight, thy death is sure.”
Sir Balva heard the giant roar,
“What wave-thrown stranger climbed our shore?”
Her voice replied, “Now come, nor wait,
My soul, for thee my love is great.
Put thou thy head upon my knee,
I’ll sweetly play the harp to thee.”
He rested, and a laugh displayed
The white teeth of the blue-eyed maid.
The wild harp-music sweetly rung,
And sweeter still her tuneful tongue.
And on his eyes, by sea winds fanned,
Sleep laid full soon his tranquil hand.
Then took they off his star-white sword
And slew the Castle’s Giant Lord.
Thus how the captive maid was found,
Oft heard they of The Table Round.
SEANN ORAN GAILIC.1
Do reir beulaithris ann an linn Righ Artair bhi ann an Duneidean, bha Triath urramach Eirinneach a chuir tigh dìdean air a chraig ris an abairte Aill-séid-chuan, agus ghoid e na braighde rìomhfhinne uasal, agus thug e i do’n Dun a thog e air Aill-séid-chuan, s bha e ga gleidh an sin na braighde. Bha Righ Artair latha anns a bheinn a sealg, luidh e a’ leigeadh a sgìtheas dheth, chaidil e agus bhruadair e air an rìmhfhinne a bha ann am braighdeanas, agus ghabh e toil a cuir saor, ach cha robh fios aige c’aite an robh i. Ghabh sir Bhalbha os laimh dol g’a h iarraidh na’m faigheadh e long o’n Righ. Thug an Righ long dh’a, agus sheol sir Bhalbha gus gun d’fhuair e air thuileamus i, agus thug e dh’ionnsaidh Righ Airteir i, agus b’ann do’n chùis chaidh an t óran a leasas a dheanamh.
Turus a chaidh Righ Arstair s a shluagh
Gu tullach na’m buadh, a shealg;
Gun duine mar-ris an Righ
Ach Sir Bhalbha, fo a lion arm.
Gun duine, &c.
Chunnaic Righ Bhreatun s e na shuain
An aon bhean a b’aillidh snuadh fo’n ghrein
‘S b fhearr leis ro na bh’aige a dh’or
An òg-bhean bhi aige fein.
‘S b fhearr leis, &c.
Ach b’fhearr leis tuiteam ann an sin
Le comhrag fir, mar bha e fein.
No dol a dh’iarraidh na mnà
S gun fhios aige cia an t’aite fo n ghréin.
No dol a dh’iarraidh, &c.
Thubairt Sir Bhalbha suairce cuin.
‘S e mo rùn dol a dh’iarraidh na mnà,
Theid mi fein mo ghille s mo chu
Nar triuir ‘g a sireadh gun dàil
Theid mi fein, &c
Seachd seachdainnean le stri
Bha sinn sgìth a sinbhal cuain
Gun chala gun talamh gun fhonn
Gun ionad amis an gabhadh an long tàmh.
Gun chala gun, &c.
Chuannacas an iomall a chuain Ghairbh
Caisteal mór mìn-gheal ghuirm,
Uinneagan gloine air a stuagh
S bu lìon-mhor ann cuaich coirn.
Uninneagan gloine, &c.
Air dhuinn bhi seoladh stigh ri bhun,
Chaidh slabhraidh a chuir a nuas;
S roimh an t slabhraidh cha do ghabh-ar crith
Ach chaidhearurra na m’ruith suas.
S roimh an t slabhraidh, &c.
Cuanna’cas an ighean eididh òg
Air cathair òir na suidhe a steach
Sgàthan gloine air a glùn,
S bheannaich-eam do a gnuis gheal.
Sgàthan gloine, &c.
Fhir a thainig oìrun o’n chuan
S truagh brìgh do bheannachadh ann.
Ged thigeadh am fear mor na m dhàil
Gun iochd gun bhàigh le a chlaidheamh cruaidh,
Air do ghuidh-se a bhean bhlath.
S coingeis leam a ghradh seach fhuath.
Air do ghuidh-se, &c.
Arm cha deargadh air an thear,
Ach a chlaidheamh run-geal fein.
Agus is fhearr dhuit dol fo-chleith
Do aite air leith tearruinnt’ o’n eug.
Agus is fhearr, &c.
Chaidh Sir Bhalbha fa-chleith
Agus a steach thainig am fear mor
Tha boladh an fhar-bhalaich a steach
Oirrinn iar teachd o thuinn na traigh.
Tha boladh an, &c.
Anamain, a sheircein, s a rùin
Is mor an gaol a thug mi dhuit,
Cuir thusa do cheann air mo ghlùin,
Agus seinnidh mi ciùin duit a chruit.
Cuir thusa do, &c.
Chuir e a cheann air uchd an ighinn ùir,
Bu ghuirme sùil, s bu ghile deud,
S ge bu bhinn a sheinneadh i a chruit,
Bu bhinneadh an guth bha teachd o a beul.
S ge bu bhinn, &c.
Air dhuinn bhi cuairteachadh na’n cuan
Chaidil e suain, na thruim sheamh fann,
S thug iad an claidheamh a chrios
S ghearr iad gun fhios d’dheth an ceann,
S thug iad an, &c.
Ghoid iad a bhraighdeach s gu leir
S bha a bhean fein fo chumha thruim
Siod agaibh aithris mo sgeul
S mar a leugh iad am bòrd-cruinn.
Siod agaibh, &c.
Latha do Righ Arstair s a shluagh
Bhi air Tullach na’m buadh, a shealg.
Gun duine mar-ris an Righ
Ach Bhalbha, fo lion arm.
Notes
1 The Gaelic spelt as by Dewar.