A Plaintive Harvest

THE CLEARANCE SONG. From Lochourn to Glenfinnan the gray mountains ranging, Naught falls on the eye but the changed and the changing; From the hut by the lochside, the farm by the river, Macdonalds and Cameron pass—and for ever. The flocks of one stranger the long glens are roaming, Where a hundred bien homesteads smoked bonny at […]

Boadicea: An Ode

WHEN the British warrior queen, Bleeding from the Roman rods, Sought, with an indignant mien, Counsel of her country’s gods, Sage beneath a spreading oak Sat the Druid, hoary chief; Every burning word he spoke Full of rage, and full of grief. ‘Princess! if our aged eyes Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, ’Tis because resentment […]

Gu Bràth, Am Byth

Bruti posteritas cum Scotis associata Anglica regna premet, Marte, labore, nece. Flumina manabunt hostili tincta cruore Perfida gens omni lite subacta ruet, Quem Britonum fundet Albanis juncta juventus: Sanguine Saxonico tincta rubebit humus: Regnabunt Britones Scotorum gentis amici Antiquum nomen insula tota feret; Ut profert aquila veteri de turre locuta, Cum Scotis Britones regna paterna […]

That Annihilated Place

τὸ δ᾽ ἔργον τοῦτο μὴ μόνον εἶναι κατὰ τὸ μέγεθος ἀποδοχῆς ἄξιον, ἀλλὰ καὶ τῇ τέχνῃ θαυμαστὸν καὶ τῇ τοῦ λίθου φύσει διαφέρον, ὡς ἂν ἐν τηλικούτῳ μεγέθει μήτε διαφυάδος μήτε κηλῖδος μηδεμιᾶς θεωρουμένης. ἐπιγεγράφθαι δ᾽ ἐπ᾽ αὐτοῦ ‘βασιλεὺς βασιλέων Ὀσυμανδύας εἰμί. εἰ δέ τις εἰδέναι βούλεται πηλίκος εἰμὶ καὶ ποῦ κεῖμαι, νικάτω τι τῶν […]

Flame of God

ST. BRIGET OF THE SHORES I have heard many names of St. Briget, most beloved of Gaelic saints, with whom the month of February is identified . . . the month of “Bride min, gentle St. Bride” . . . Brighid boidheach Muime Chriosd, Bride the Beautiful, Christ’s Foster Mother . . . but there are […]

Altus Prosator “F”

CAPITULUM F TITLE: De laude Dei ab angelis in quarta feria dicentes Sanctus Sanctus Sanctus Dominus Deus Sabaoth. ARGUMENT: ‘Quando feci celum et terram collaudaverunt me angeli’; ut in Sapientia Salomonis dicitur. Factis simul sideribus etheris luminaribus collaudaverunt angeli factura praemirabili immensae molis dominum opificem celestium preconia laudabile debito et immobile concentuque egregio grates egerunt […]

Tae Oor Dear Native Scenes

Poem Inspired by a Gaelic Topography of Balquhidder Parish: Rev. Alex MacGregor, EUP 1886 The Cloud Collector: Poems & Story in Scots & English (Maud, Aberdeenshire: Lochlands 2015) by Sheena Blackhall Field of the land producing thatch Shieling of grinding wheat Burn beside the dun coloured dell Burn of the mournful bleat Burn of the black […]

Altus Prosator “E”

CAPITULUM E TITLE: De creatione elementorum mundi et hominis regentis ea postea more regis. ARGUMENT: ‘In principio fecit Deus celum et terram’ ut in Genesi dicitur.–(Gen. i. 1.) Excelsus mundi machinam previdens et armoniam caelum et terram fecerat mare et aquas condidit herbarum quoque germina virgultorum arbuscula solem lunam ac sidera ignem ac necessaria aves […]

Out of Time

You think me reckless, desperate and mad. You argue by results, as this world does, To settle if an act be good or bad. You defer to the fact. For every life and every act Consequence of good and evil can be shown. And as in time results of many deeds are blended So good […]

The Old Foundations of Life

Gaelic-speaking Ireland, because its art has been made, not only by the artist choosing his material from wherever he has a mind to, but by adding a little to something which it has taken generations to invent, has always had a popular literature. We cannot say how much that literature has done for the vigour […]

Haile, Quene and Emperyse!

ROISS MARY MOST OF VERTEW VIRGIN ALL. ROISS Mary most of vertew virginall. Fresche flowr on quhom the hevynnis dewe doun fell. O gemme joynit in joye angelicall, In quhom Jhesu rejosit wes to dwell. Rute of refute, of mercy spring and well, Of ladyis chois as is of letteris A, Empress of hevyne, of paradyss, […]

No Tragick Story

EPITAPH WRITTEN BY ARCHIBALD, 9th EARL OF ARGYLE, UPON HIMSELF. Thou Passenger, that shalt have so much time To view my grave, and ask what was my crime,— No stain of error, no black vice’s brand, Was that which chas’d me from my native land. Love to my country,—twice sentenced to die,— Constrained my hands […]