Gael-like is every leap of the dun horse,
A Gael she is in truth.
It is she who conquers and wins,
In all that I’ll now sing.
The praise of speed to her limbs,
In every fierce assault.
Marked, and famous her strength,
While quiet at the house of prayer.
The birds are they who could,
Strive with her in the race.
Not false is the fame of that horse,
The steed both sturdy and swift,
Liker she was to Duseivlin,[181]
Than to the beast of Lamacha.[182]
They who would view her size and triumphs,
Can nowhere find her match.
Just like the wheeling of the mountain winds,
Is the action of the prancing steed.
Hundreds admire her paces,
Like one in frenzy passing.
Like the point of an arrow this horse,
Famous are all her doings.
Bands of the great witness her course,
As with speed she rushes.
Though far before her stands the groom,
No blunderer is her rider.
Few are the words would tell her praise,
Like birds on wing her movements.
Her triumphs and paces the same,
Whether ’mong rocks or bogs she moves.
Before that horse all men do fear,
When she comes in the trappings of war.
In the troop, the hunt, or the conflict,
That horse a noble horse is.
That horse is all full of spirit,
As fameworthy she follows the banner.
That wave-like steed, hardy and keen,
Will win for her rider the praise of men.
Forth from her stall she takes the lead,
That gentle, great, and active horse.
She will triumph in speed and slaughter,
Till that the day in evening sinks.
Ready to treasure the girdle of gold,[183]
The field with violence shakes.
Startling, rounded, bright, well shod,
Gentle, broad-backed, coloured well.
A horse of such great fame as this,
I long had heard that they possessed.
Where was ever found her match,
Not he, the beast of Lamacha.
Mac Gregor ’s the master of that horse,
Prince of the house to poets free.
From Banva men do come to praise,
To Albion they do come to seek,
The man who robs from the Saxon,
And e’er puts his trust in the Gael.
[180] This Finlay is the author of several pieces in this miscellany.
He is apparently the Finlay M’Nab to whom another composition is
attributed, and is called in one place “Am bard maith,” _The good
poet_. He seems to have been the family bard of M’Gregor, the praise of
whose horse he here proclaims in most poetic strains.
[181] Duseivlin was one of the famous steeds of the Feinn.
[182] The beast of Lamacha, “Aidhre an Lamacha,” is entirely unknown to
the Editor. The animal is called “Beisd,” _a beast_, in a subsequent
part of the poem. It must have been some animal famous in the country
for its ugliness.
[183] The girdle of gold would seem to have been the prize conferred
upon the victor in a race.
Finlay the red-haired bard.
I am a stranger long to success,
’Tis time that I should have it.
’Tis time now to desist,
From satire justly due.
The way that I shall take,
To seek a noble branch,
Is to the Prince of the Gael,
Where are no worthless guests.
To Mac Gregor the brave,
Head of all the schools;[184]
He’s neither cruel nor sparing,
To praise him is our duty.
To whom courage is a right;
When summer time comes round,
Peace he never knows,
He’s in the throat of all his fellows.
When men of him do speak,
As Gregor of the blows,
’Tis his delight to drive,
Flocks and herds before him.
Of that flock John’s[185] the head,
The king at lifting cattle,
I myself will sing,
Mouth with mouth at daybreak.
When his sharp-armed men see,
Mac Gregor at the Bealach,[186]
His way so gently soft,
No weight to them their burdens.
Then when war arises,
Proclaimed in enemies’ hearts,
It is to him they’d gather,
Clothed in martial dress.
’Tis of Mac Gregor’s fame,
When fighting’s left behind.
To men not to be cruel,
His castle full of mirth;
When victory I had left
Upon the field of war,
When of the fight I spoke,
Nought loved my patron more.
Though sad, on the stormy lake,
To tell men of my grief,
To have a crew of mariners,
Is best in battle’s day.
Remember I’ll be with thee,
Mac Gregor without stain,
In face of any foe,
Long, long’s the time.
Gentle Elizabeth,
Change thou my state;
Woman of softest locks,
And of the loftiest brow.
I am.
[184] The schools of the bards. Many Highland bards at this period were
trained in Ireland, of which these poems bear evident marks.
[185] In his obituary the Dean enters at 1519, May 24-26, death of John
dubh MacGregor of Glenstrae, at Stronmelochane. He was buried in Dysart
(Glenurchy), north of the great altar, in a stone coffin, upon the 26th
of May 1519, on which day there was a great mourning in Glenurchy. The
Elizabeth afterwards mentioned was probably the wife of this chief.
[186] “Bealach,” the modern “Taymouth,” was, with the territory around,
in possession of the M’Gregors down to about 1490, when it passed by
Royal charter into the possession of the Knights of Glenurchy.