Читать книгу Lyra Celtica - Various Authors - Страница 21

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Murdoch, whet thy knife, that we may shave our crowns to the Great King.

Let us sweetly give our vow, and the hair of both our heads to the Trinity.

I will shave mine to Mary; this is the doing of a true heart:

To Mary shave thou these locks, well-formed, soft-eyed man.

Seldom hast thou had, handsome man, a knife on thy hair to shave it;

Oftener has a sweet, soft queen comb’d her hair beside thee.

Whenever it was that we did bathe, with Brian of the well-curled locks,

And once on a time that I did bathe at the well of the fair-haired Boroimhe,

I strove in swimming with Ua Chais, on the cold waters of the Fergus.

When he came ashore from the stream, Ua Chais and I strove in a race:

These two knives, one to each, were given us by Duncan Cairbreach;

No knives were better: shave gently then, Murdoch.

Whet your sword, Cathal, which wins the fertile Banva;

Ne’er was thy wrath heard without fighting, brave, red-handed Cathal.

Preserve our shaved heads from cold and from heat, gentle daughter of Iodehim,

Preserve us in the land of heat, softest branch of Mary.