Since they’ve ta’en ye frae me?
What again can pleasure gie?
What dispel my sorrow?
Life was sweet, I was gay
Love was short and joy’s away;
Grief has come, but grief will stay,
Renewed with every morrow.”
“A CHOLLA MO RUN.”
One of the earliest recorded instances of the bravery of a piper is contained in the annals of our own Highlands, and is inseparably connected with the tune known as A Cholla mo run, referred to in a previous chapter.[[16]] It may be as well to give the story here at full length. The hero was the piper of Coll Kitto, or left-handed Coll, who landed in Islay with the advance party of an expedition from Ireland, with instructions to take the Castle of Dunivaig by surprise, should he find that this could be attempted with any degree of success. The Campbells, however, had heard of the expedition, and they drew the party into an ambush and made them prisoners. All were hung off-hand, except the piper, who asked leave first to play a lament over his comrades. The chief of the Campbells had heard of the fame of this piper, and, being himself fond of music, he granted the request, taking care, however, to put cattle in the way of those of Coll Kitto’s people who might follow the advance party, which would distract their attention, while his men could fall on them as they did on the others. The piper saw and understood the arrangements, and adapted his pibroch to the occasion, so that the warning and lamenting notes could not fail to be understood by his comrades. The chief of the Campbells also understood, and on finding himself over-reached he plunged his dirk into the piper, who smiled proudly even in death, for he knew he had saved his friends. The lamenting notes represented in this tune by “We are in their hands, we are in their hands,” and the warning notes represented by “leave the cattle, leave the cattle,” are exceedingly touching, and Coll Kitto, when he heard the pibroch, at once knew that his advance party was in trouble, and that the piper wished him to keep away from the island. Accordingly he turned his birlins, that is, boats, and left for a less dangerous locality. The words, when translated, are far from having the power and beauty of the Gaelic, but they will serve to show somewhat how the old pipers were supposed to speak by their music to those who understood them:—