[Footnote 2: Traditional Holy Hill]
THE SONG OF GOLL.
O Son of The Red, Undone and laid dead-- The blood of a hero My cold blade hath shed.
Who fought me to-day?
Who sought me to slay?-- The son of yon High King I slew in the fray.
O blade that yon brave Low laid in the grave, Ye gladdened the Fians But grief to Conn gave.
Stone-hearted and strong, Lone-hearted with long, Dark brooding, he sought to Avenge his deep wrong.
Fair Son of The Red, Care none thou art dead?-- Old Goll of Clan Morna Will mourn thou hast bled.
O where shall be found To share with thee round The halls of Valhalla Thy glory renowned?
O true as the blade That slew thee, and made My fear and thine anger For ever to fade--
Ah! when upon earth Again will have birth A son of such honour And bravery and worth?
Above thee in splendour A love that could render Brave service, burned star-like And constant and tender.
With fearing my name, With hearing my fame, O none would dare combat With Goll till Conn came? ...
O great was thine ire-- The fate of thy sire, Awaiting thy coming, Consumed thee like fire.
O Son of The Red, Undone and laid dead-- The blood of a hero My cold blade hath shed.
THE BLUE MEN OF THE MINCH.
When the tide is at the turning and the wind is fast asleep, And not a wave is curling on the wide, blue Deep, O the waters will be churning on the stream that never smiles, Where the Blue Men are splashing round the charmed isles.
As the summer wind goes droning o'er the sun-bright seas, And the Minch is all a-dazzle to the Hebrides; They will skim along like salmon--you can see their shoulders gleam, And the flashing of their fingers in the Blue Men's Stream.
But when the blast is raving and the wild tide races, The Blue Men ere breast-high with foam-grey faces; They'll plunge along with fury while they sweep the spray behind, O, they'll bellow o'er the billows and wail upon the wind.
And if my boat be storm-toss'd and beating for the bay, They'll be howling and be growling as they drench it with their spray-- For they'd like to heel it over to their laughter when it lists, Or crack the keel between them, or stave it with their fists.
O weary on the Blue Men, their anger and their wiles!
The whole day long, the whole night long, they're splashing round the isles; They'll follow every fisher--ah! they'll haunt the fisher's dream-- When billows toss, O who would cross the Blue Men's Stream?
THE URISK.
O the night I met the Urisk on the wide, lone moor!
Ah! would I be forgetting of The Thing that came with me?
For it was big and black as black, and it was dour as dour, It shrank and grew and had no shape of aught I e'er did see.
For it came creeping like a cloud that's moving all alone, Without the sound of footsteps ... and I heard its heavy sighs ...
Its face was old and grey, and like a lichen-covered stone, And its tangled locks were dropping o'er its sad and weary eyes.
O it's never the word it had to say in anger or in woe-- It would not seek to harm me that had never done it wrong, As fleet--O like the deer!--I went, or I went panting slow, The waesome thing came with me on that lonely road and long.
O eerie was the Urisk that convoy'd me o'er the moor!
When I was all so helpless and my heart was full of fear, Nor when it was beside me or behind me was I sure-- I knew it would be following--I knew it would be near!
THE NIMBLE MEN.
(AURORA BOREALIS.)
When Angus Ore, the wizard, His fearsome wand will raise, The night is filled with splendour, And the north is all ablaze; From clouds of raven blackness, Like flames that leap on high-- All merrily dance the Nimble Men across the Northern Sky.
Now come the Merry Maidens, All gowned in white and green, While the bold and ruddy fellows Will be flitting in between-- O to hear the fairy piper Who will keep them tripping by!-- The men and maids who merrily dance across the Northern Sky.
O the weird and waesome music, And the never-faltering feet!
O their fast and strong embraces, And their kisses hot and sweet!
There's a lost and languished lover With a fierce and jealous eye, As merrily flit the Nimble Folk across the Northern Sky.
So now the dance is over, And the dancers sink to rest-- There's a maid that has two lovers, And there's one she loves the best; He will cast him down before her, She will raise him with a sigh-- Her love so bright who danced to-night across the Northern Sky.
Then up will leap the other, And up will leap his clan-- O the lover and his company Will fight them man to man-- All shrieking from the conflict The merry maidens fly-- There's a Battle Royal raging now across the Northern Sky.
Through all the hours of darkness The fearsome fight will last; They are leaping white with anger, And the blows are falling fast-- And where the slain have tumbled A pool of blood will lie-- O it's dripping on the dark green stones from out the Northern Sky.
When yon lady seeks her lover In the cold and pearly morn, She will find that he has fallen By the hand that she would scorn,-- She will clasp her arms about him, And in her anguish die!-- O never again will trip the twain across the Northern Sky.
MY GUNNA.