A flap, a flash, the green roll dashed,
And laughed against the red;
Upon our boards, now here, now there,
It knocked its foamy head.
The dun bowed whelk in the abyss,
As on the galley bore,
Gave a tap upon her gunwale
And a slap upon her floor.
She could have split a slender straw—
So clean and well she went—
As still obedient to the helm
Her stately course she bent.
We watched the big beast eat the small—
The small beast nimbly fly,
And listened to the plunging eels—
The sea-gull’s clang on high.
We had no other music
To cheer us on our way:
Till round those sheltering hills we passed
And anchored in this bay.
Cumha Ghriogair Mhic Griogair.
(The Lament of Gregor MacGregor.)
LATER GAELIC
Early on a Lammas morning,
With my husband was I gay;
But my heart got sorely wounded
Ere the middle of the day.
Ochan, ochan, ochan uiri
Though I cry, my child, with thee—
Ochan, ochan, ochan uiri,
Now he hears not thee nor me!
Malison on judge and kindred,
They have wrought me mickle woe;
With deceit they came about us,—
Through deceit they laid him low.