and for eight other verses in the old ancient Gaelic that has lived in her lament till this day:[22]
Dear is this land to me, dear is this land:
O Alba of the lochs!
Sure I would not be sailing sad from thy foam-white sand
Were I not sailing with Nathos for the Irish strand.
Dear is the Forest Fort and high Dunfin,
And Dun Sween, and Innis Drayno—
Often with Nathos have I striven to win
To the wooded heights of these—and now we go
Far hence, and to me it is a parting of woe.