Fuadach nan GàidhealHenry Whyte, aka Fionn
|Altra versione inglese (forse più letterale) trovata qui|
|THE DISPERSION OF THE HIGHLANDERS||THE EVICTION OF THE HIGHLANDERS|
|I mourn for the Highlands, Now drear and forsaken;|
The land of my fathers, The gallant and brave;
To make room for the sportsman Their lands were all taken,
And they had to seek out New homes over the wave.
|I am so sad|
Mourning for the state of the country
And the old thrifty people
Who were worthy and courageous.
Landlords evicted them
Far over the seas;
Their lands were taken from them
And given up to the deer.
|Where once smiled the garden, Rank weeds have their station.|
And deer are preferred To a leal-hearted race.
Oh, shame on the tyrants Who brought desolation,
Who banished the brave And put sheep in their place.
|That was a matter of shame,|
To see strong people
Being evicted over the ocean
Like useless debris;
And the beautiful land
Occupied by Cheviot sheep.
There are nettles in the garden
And the ruins covered with grass.
|Oh ! where are the parents And bairns yonder roaming|
The scene of their gladness Is far o'er the main ;
No blithe-hearted milk-maid Now cheers us at gloaming ;
The herd-boy no longer Is seen on the plain.
|Where there were many men|
With their wives and families,
There are only hornless sheep
To be found in their place.
You cannot see in the cattle-fold
The milkmaid with her fetter,
Or the white-shouldered cattle
And the fair-haired herdsman.
|The lark is still soaring, and sings in his glory,|
With no one to listen His sweet morning lay;
The clansmen are gone-- But their deeds live in story--
Like chaff in the wind, they were borne far away.
|The lark is in the skies|
Singing her tuneful song,
With no one listening to her
As she climbs higher.
The people will never return, never return,
Who were hearty and genial;
Like chaff on a windy day
They were dispersed for ever.