Sad to me’s my fate,
Though men don’t understand,
Suffer not, Son of God,
Me to have pain to-day.
Little thought the school
That such should be my fate,
The fate which me o’ertook,
’Tis it has me destroyed.
The pain in it I have,
Is threefold what I’ve felt,
The trouble I have found
Is weighted with a stone.
For her who caused my grief,
My wrath and rage are great.
Her skin like froth of waves,
Ruddy and soft her hand,
Her lips like berries red,
My soul she gently seized.
Since I slept last night,
Sad indeed my state.
I thought she was beside me,
That I saw her smile.
She’s not been since the day,
When began my grief.
She of curling locks,
And colour richly red,
Five jewels in a knot,
In the maiden’s name.
Pity she’s not with me,
And others have her not.
That I myself might get
For evermore that friend.
Were I to suffer from,
What other men have felt,
The spear of great Cuchullin,
The horse of white-steed Teague,
The purple shield unbroken,
Famous all in war;
The speed of Mac Erc’s coursers,
Though much it is to say,
Alas, more sad for me
The trouble I endure.
[176] This John M’Muirich, or M’Vurrich, was in all likelihood a
member of the family who were so long bards to Clanranald, and who
derived their name from their great ancestor in the thirteenth century,
Muireach Albanach. A list of the names of these bards is given for
eight generations by Lachlan, who lived in 1800, in his declaration, as
given in the Report of the Highland Society on Ossian, but it does not
embrace this John. The piece is chiefly interesting from the historical
references at the close.