Note 297 — PART THIRD. HISTORY OF THE HIGHLAND REGIMENTS. (continued 2)
Reading edition
At this time, the words of “the Garb of Old Gaul” were composed. Major Reid set them to music of his own composition, which has ever since been the regimental march. Peace and country quarters affording leisure to the officers, several of them indulged their taste for poetry and music. Major Reid was one of the most accomplished flute-players of the age. He died in 1806, a general in the army, and colonel of the 88th or Connaught Rangers. He left the sum of £52,000 to the University of Edinburgh, where he was educated, to establish a Professorship of Music in the College, with a salary of not less than £300 per annum, and to hold an annual concert on the anniversary of his birth-day, the 13th of February; the performance to commence with several pieces of his own composition, for the purpose of showing the style of music in his early years, and towards the middle of the last century. Among the first of these pieces is the Garb of Old Gaul. [See account of Clan Robertson.] The statement in Stewart’s Sketches, that this song was originally written in Gaelic by a soldier of the 42d, is incorrect. Dr David Laing says, in Wood’s Songs of Scotland, edited by G. F. Graham, that it was originally written in English by Lieutenant-General Sir Henry Erskine, Bart., second son of Sir John Erskine of Alva, who commanded the Scots Greys in 1762. It has been attributed to Sir Henry Erskine of Torry, but it was not written by him. Its earliest appearance (in English) was in The Lark, 1765. An indifferent translation into Gaelic, by Morrison, was published in Gillies’ Gaelic Poetry, 1786. This is the first Gaelic version. A much better translation into Gaelic is by Captain M’Intyre, and appeared in Am Filidh, a Gaelic Song Book, edited by James Munro, 12mo, Edin. 1840.
We give here the original song, with the Gaelic version of Captain M’Intyre:—
IN THE GARB OF OLD GAUL.
In the garb of old Gaul, with the fire of old Rome, From the heath-covered mountains of Scotia we come; Where the Romans endeavoured our country to gain, But our ancestors fought, and they fought not in vain. Such our love of liberty, our country, and our laws, That, like our ancestors of old, we stand by freedom’s cause; We’ll bravely fight, like heroes bright, for honour and applause, And defy the French, with all their arts, to alter our laws. No effeminate customs our sinews unbrace, No luxurious tables enervate our race; Our loud-sounding pipe bears the true martial strain, So do we the old Scottish valour retain. As a storm in the ocean when Boreas blows, So are we enraged when we rush on our foes: We sons of the mountains, tremendous as rocks, Dash the force of our foes with our thundering strokes. We’re tall as the oak on the mount of the vale, Are swift as the roe which the hound doth assail, As the full moon in autumn our shields do appear, Minerva would dread to encounter our spear. Quebec and Cape Breton, the pride of old France, In their troops fondly boasted till we did advance; But when our claymores they saw us produce, Their courage did fail, and they sued for a truce. In our realm may the fury of faction long cease, May our councils be wise and our commerce increase, And in Scotia’s cold climate may each of us find, That our friends still prove true and our beauties prove kind. Then we’ll defend our liberty, our country, and our laws, And teach our late posterity to fight in freedom’s cause, That they like our ancestors bold, for honour and applause, May defy the French, with all their arts, to alter our laws.
EIDEADH NAN GAEL.
Ann an éideadh nan Gàel, Le tein’-àrdain na Ròimh’, ’S ann o fhraoch-bheannaibh Alba A dh’ fhalbh sinn a chum gleòis, Tir a stribhich na Ròimhich Le foirneart thoirt uainn, Ach ar sinnscarra chòmhraig, ’S mar sheòid thug iad buaidh! Le sòghalas no féisdeachas Ar féithean las cha-n fhàs; Cha toir ròic no ruidht oirnn striocadh Chum’s gu’u díobair sinn ar càil; ’S i a’ phìob a’s àírde nual A bhios g’ ar gluasad gu blàr;— Sin an ceòl a chumas suas annainn Cruadal nan Gàel. ’S co-chruaidh sinn ris na daragan Tha thall-ud anns a’ ghleann; Is co-luath sinn ris an eilid Air nach beir ach an cù seang; Mar a’ ghealach làn as t-fhogar Nochdar aghaidh ar cuid sgiath, ’S roimh ’r lannan guineach geur Air Minérbha bi’dh fiamh! Mar a shéideas a’ ghaoth tuath Air a’ chuan a’s gairge toirm, ’S ann mar sin a ni sinn brùchdadh Air ar naimhde ’nùll gu borb; Mar chreaga trom a’ tùirling orr’ Thig ur-shiol nam beannta, G’ an caitheamh as le ’n tréuntas, ’S le géiread an lann. Mar so, ar Lagh ’s ar Righeachd Gu’n dionar leinn gu bràth;— Agus cath air taobh ua saorsa Gu’m faoghluim sinn d’ ar n-àl; Gus an diong iad fòs an seanairean ’Am fearalas s ’an càil, ’S gus an cuir iad cìs gun tainng Air an Fhraing ’s air an Spàinn.