Bold as a prince is John[209] in each gathering,
’Twere long to sing his race’s glory;
Of this there is no doubt ’mong men,
That he is the first of the race of kings.
Mac Gregor of the bravest deeds,
Is the boldest chief in any land;
Between his gold and Saxons’ spoil,
Well may he live in ease and peace.
Choice for courage of the Grecian Gael,
Whose meed of praise shall ne’er decay,
Abounding in charity and love,
Known in the lands of the race of kings.[210]
White-toothed falcon of the three glens,[211]
With whom we read the bravest deeds,
The boldest arm ’midst fight of clans,
Best of the chiefs from the race of kings.
When on Mac Phadrick of ruddy cheeks,
Wrath in battle’s hour awaked,
The men who with him share the fight
Are never safe amidst its blows.
Grandson to Malcom of bright eyes,
Whom none could leave but felt their loss,
The generous, gentle, shapely youth,
The readiest hand when aught’s to do.
The race of Gregor stand round John,
Not as a weak one is their blow;
The famous race without a fault,
Round him like a fence they stand.
Clan Gregor who show no fear,
Even when with the king they strive,
Though brave Gael may be the foe,
That they count of little weight.
Gael or Saxon are the same,
To these brave men of kingly race,
Sons of Gregor bold in fight,
Bend not before the fiercest foe.
Prince[212] of the host of generous men,
To Gregor of golden bridles, heir,
Pity the men whom you may spoil,
Worse for them who you pursue.
Chief of Glen Lyon of the blades,
Shield and benefactor of the Church,
His arm like Oscar’s in the fight,
To whom in all things he is like.
Kindness mantles on his red cheek,
Thy praise he justly wins, ungrudged;
Benevolence when to men he shows,
Horses and gold he freely gives.
Mac Gregor of the noble race,
No wonder though bards should fill thy court;
To his white breast there is no match,
But he so famous ’mong the Feinn.
Three fair watches him surround,
Never as captives were his men;
His arm in battle’s struggle strong,
Well did he love to hunt the deer.
In mien and manners he was like
The king who ruled amongst the Feinn.
Mac Gregor of the spoils, his fortune such
That choicest men do covet it.
Good and gentle is his blue eye,
He’s like Mac Cumhail of liberal horn,
Like when giving us his gold,
Like when bestowing gifts on bards,
Like in wooing or in hunt,
To the Cu Caird[213] among the Feinn.
Fortune attends the race of kings,
Their fame and wisdom both are great,
Their bounty, prudence, charity,
Are knit to them, the race of kings,
Wine and wax and honey,
These, with the stag-hunt, their delight.
Famous the actions of John’s clan,
Like to the sons of the Fenian king;
John himself was like to Finn,
First and chief ’mongst all his men.
Though many sought to have Finn’s power,
’Mongst those who fought against the Feinn,
On Patrick’s son fortune attends,
His enemies he has overcome.
Mac Gregor who destroys is he,
Bountiful friend of Church and bards.
Of handsome form, of women loved,
He of Glenstray of generous men.
Easy ’tis to speak of John,
His praise to raise loud in the song,
Giving his horses and his gold,
Just as a king should freely give.
King of Heaven, Mary virgin,
Keep me as I should be kept;
To the great city fearless me bring
Where dwells the Father of the king.
Bold.
* * * * *
Fond[214] are men of being high-born,
Whatever their wealth may be;
Great scorn of the illegitimate,
Who seek to approach the king.
Hear me, though ye may mock,
Ye race of commons and gentles,
The number of famous chiefs,
Who go to make up my fame.
I’m of the blood of clan Dougal,
A race of unquestioned right;
But brave and bold though they be,
’Tis not of them I’ve my all.
My kinsman is Mac Chailein,
Who freely gives gold to the bards;
Why should I be sorrowful,
My native place is in Earla.[215]
My native place is in Earla,
Clan Donald lie off to the west;
My dwelling is with clan Gillean,
The men who in battle can fight.
Mac Phee of Colonsay,
No stranger is he to my race,
And Mac Niel of Barray,
Of pure and gentle descent.
Mac Nee I also remember,
And also the powerful Mac Sween,
Clan Leod and clan Ranald,
Chiefs from whom I descend.
Cattanachs and Mac Intoshes,
They too are among my friends;
The Camerons and clan Gregor,
The men from Breadalbane who come.
Stewarts, though widely they be
Scattered throughout the whole earth,
Old, certain, swift-footed the tale,
That of them was my father’s grandmother.
In Balquhidder and Breadalbane,
My friends are numerous found;
Kindly men in bringing aid,
These are my kindred true.
Clan Lauchlan and clan Lamond,
Clan Neil, who learn feats of war;
Friends of mine are clan Tavish,
’Midst their green hills and their braes.
These little vigorous men,
Who dwell in the straths of the land,
I visit M’Dougal of Craignish,
I’ve a friend besides in Mac Ivor.
Gillean who has come from Mull,
Woman from the race of mariners,
Never did compass the earth,
The man whom she did not attract.
Faithful and steadfast friend,
Chief who was kind to Maol Donich,
In the liking which this man has,
No man more favour could get.
Fond.
[208] This poet was probably a M’Gregor.
[209] In the Dean’s Obits, as already quoted, we find that, in 1519,
died John Dow M’Patrick M’Gregor of Glenstray, at Stronmelochan. He was
apparently the subject of this laudatory ode. He is called grandson
of Malcolm. Accordingly, we find among the Dean’s Obits, that Malcolm
M’Gregor, son and heir to John M’Gregor of Glenstray, died in 1498.
[210] The original is “sliochd an row,” or “an rudha.” It is translated
as if the word were “rìghe,” _kings_; but the Editor is in doubt if
this be the word meant.
[211] The M’Gregor’s glens were Glenurchay, Glendochart, and Glenlyon.
[212] “Brainean,” the word here translated _prince_, is the ancient
Gaelic form of the Welsh “Brenhin,” _a king_. The word is now obsolete
in the Highlands.
[213] “Cu ceaird,” _The artificer’s dog_, is an old name for Cuchullin.
It is said in Ireland to have originated in Cuchullin having killed the
watch-dog of Cullin, artificer to King Cormac; whereupon he undertook
to watch himself, and hence obtained the name of Cullin’s dog, or
Cuchullin, also “Cu ceaird.”
[214] This is a curious fragment, and is of interest from the
references in it to the Highland clans. The writer, who towards the
close gives his name as Maoldomhnaich, _Servus Domini_, was apparently
the illegitimate son of some man of note, and was in all likelihood a
Maclean.
[215] There is, between Tobermory and Aros in Mull, a place marked in
the maps Arile. This was probably the residence of our bard.