Subject: Lyr Add: AN CAISIDEACH BÁN (Tomás Ó Casaide)
From:
GUEST,Philippa
Date: 06 Feb 04 - 05:05 AM
from the singing of Antaine Ó Faracháin on "Seachrán" (Cló Iar-Chonnachta)
composed by Tomás Ó Casaide around 1773
the mountains referred to in the first line are most likely Croagh Patrick in Co Mayo and Sliabh Bághna in Co Roscommon
AN CAISIDEACH BÁN
Thug me an ruaig údaí ó mhullach na Cruaiche
Chugat anuas chun an tSléibhe Bháin
Ag cur tuairisc mo chailín a d'fhag m'intinn buartha
'Gus rinne sí gual dubh de mo chroí in mo lár;
D'at mo ghuaillní go snuich mo chluasa
'gus fuair mé fógra glan géar ón mbás
Is ní duine dá gcuala mo scéal an uair sin
Nár dhúirt go mba thrua bocht é an Caisideach Bán
Ar cheann an staighre tá plúr gach maighdean
Siúd i meidhreog an bhrollaoigh bháin.
Is trua nach liom í gan buaibh gan punt í
Is í a bheith gan cuntas liom ar láimh.
Dhéanfainn teach mór dhí ar shúil an bhóthair
'gus chuirfinn cóistí faoina clainn.
Is a chúilín ómra, dha mblगteá bó dhom,
I do cheangal Fómhair ní chuirfinn suim
Is nach aisteach an réasún le gur chuir tú i gcéill dhom
Nach bhfásfadh an féar thríd an talamh aníos,
Nach ndéanfadh an ghealach a solas d'Éirinn
Nach lasfadh na réalta idtús na hoích'?
Níl brí ná éifeacht i dteas na gréine;
Nó go snámhfaidh na héisc ar an muir gan braon
Nó go n-eirí na tuilte chomh hard leis na sléibhte
Go deo ní threigfead grá mo chroí.
Is bhí mé seall ag foghlaim Béarla
'Gus dúirt an chléir go mba mhaith mo chaint,
'gus an fhad úd eile 's gan unsa céille
Ach mar na héininí faoi bharr na gcrann;
Amuigh sna oíche 's gan foscadh ná dídean
Is an sneachta dhá shíorchur fá iochtar gleann;
Is a chúilín donn deas ar chaill mé na gráimh leat
Nár fhaighe tú na grásta mura n-éalaíonn tú liom.
Is bhí mé i gcoláiste go ham mo bhearrtha
'gus ins an ardscoil ar feadh chúig mbliain
Nó gur bhfuair mé oideachas agus comhairle ón Eaglais
Ach faraor cráite, bhris mé thríd!
Is rímhór m'fhaitíos roimh Rí na nGrasta
Nach bhfuil sé i ndán dom go dtiocfad saor,
Mar is mó mo pheacaí na leath Chruach Phadraig
I ngeall ar an ngrá a thug mé d'iníon maoir.
Siúd í tharainn í an eala bhán deas,
'Gus í chomh gléasta le bean ar bith;
Is trua mar a gineadh í i mbroinn a máthar,
Mar is le haghaidh mo bháis is ea a rugadh í.
Nil bun cíbe ná aon tulán timpeall
Ná gleanntán aoibhinn mar a mbíonn mo ghrá,
Nach bhfuil ceol dhá sheinm ann de ló 'gus d'oíche
'S go bhfóire Críost ar an gCaisideach Bán!
Aisling bhréagach a facthas aréir dhom
Go raibh mé i m'aonraic ar leaba chlúmhach
Nó go dtáinig an spéirbhean is gur shín sí taobh liom,
Ba deise féachaint 's a leagan súl.
Bhí com mín cailce aici mar choinnill léimnigh,
'S a folt go féar léi ag fás go dlúth;
Bhí an bhrágha ba ghile aici ná an sneachta ar thaobh cnoic
Is í a bhásaigh mé agus na céadta liom.
Aisling bhréagach a chonaictheas aréir dom
'Gus gheit sí me thrí lár mo shuain.
Go raibh ainnirin chaoin deas na gcíocha cruinngheal
Sínte síos liom taobh ar thaobh.
Ar iontú tharam dom go tapa lúfar
Chun bheith ar chúl uirthi a bhí tanaí tréan.
Ní bhfuair mé romham ann ach binn den tsúsa
'Gus d'fhág sin brúite mé le mo shaol.
The Caisideach Bán (Fair-haired Cassidy) -translation
I wandered down from the top of the Reek,
Down to you, over at Sliabh Bán,
In search of the girl who left my mind troubled,
And who turned my heart as black as coal;
My shoulders swelled up to my ears
And I received a clear sharp warning from death;
And there wasn't one who heard my story,
Who didn't say that he'd pity the Caisideach Bán.
At the top of the stairs is the flower of all maidens;
She's the light-hearted, fair-breasted, plesant young girl.
It's a pity that she, without cattle or money,
Accountable to no-one, can't give me her hand.
I'd build her a big house there by the roadside
And provide carriages for her family.
O amber locks, if you would milk my cows for me,
How you'd tie the sheaves in autumn would worry me not.
And isn't it strange how you tried to convince
The grass couldn't grow up through the ground,
That the moon wouldn't throw her light on Ireland,
That the stars wouldn't shine at the start of the night?
There's neither strength nor vigour in the heat of the sun,
And until fish swim in a dried up ocean,
Till floods rise up as high as the mountains,
I'll never desert you, love of my heart.
And I spent a while learning English,
And the clergy said that I spoke it well,
And as long again without an ounce of sense,
No more than the birds on the tops of the trees;
Out at night without shelter or refuge,
And the snow driving down to the bottom of the glen'
And O, pretty brown locks for whom I left holy orders,
May you not get God's grace if you don't come with me.
And I was at college till the time I was shaven
And in the high school for five years.
Education and counsel I received from the Church
But alas, I paid no heed!
I greatly fear the king of Graces
That I am not to be set free,
Because my sins are as great as half of Croagh Patrick,
Because of the love I gave to a bailiff's daughter.
There she goes past us, the beautiful white swan,
And she as well adorned as any woman;
It is a pity she was conceived in her mother's womb,
It was for my death that she was born.
There is neither hill nor rushy hollow
No beautiful glen where my love is,
That music is not played by day and by night,
And may Christ have mercy on the Caisideach Bán.
A false vision I saw last night
And I was alone on a bed of down,
The beautiful lady lay down alongside me.
She was so pretty with the most beautiful eyes.
She had a smooth chalk-white waist like flickering candles,
And her hair flowed down so thickly to the grass.
Her complexion was brighter than the mountain-side's snow;
It was she who killed me and with me hundreds more.
A false vision I saw last night,
And it startled me from the depths of my sleep,
That the nice kind maiden of the bright firm breasts
Lay herself down by my side
As I turned around, quickly and swiftly
To catch her tresses, who was so thin and so firm,
All I found was the edge of the blanket
And that has left me bereft, for life.
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