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Oh, dear to old Dunolly's heart
His darling daughter seemed,
Yet when she fled, how pitiless
His bitter curse was deemed.

To death he doomed her lover true,
And swore his lowly blood...

(From The Gaelic)

The Hern at early morning cries,
Where at Sleve-gail the meadow lies.

Say, D'in's son, whom I love well,
Canst thou thereof the reason tell?
...

Cherry bloom and green buds bursting
Fleck the azure skies;
In the spring wood, hungering, thirsting,
Faint an Indian lies.

To behold his guardian spirit
Fasts the dusky youth;...

Best beloved of ancient stories
Are our Diarmid's woes to me.
Like a mist, by breezes broken,
So this tale of olden glories
Floats in fragments, as a token
Of the song of Ireland's sea.
...

Not home to land and kindred wast thou brought,
Nor laid 'mid trampled dead of battle won,--
Nor after long life filled with duty done
Was thine such death as thou thyself had'st sought!...

[Taken from "Leabhar na Feinne," and a prose version written down from oral recitation by J. Dewar.]

OSSIAN.

This vale of Peace, this glen close by,
Where deer and elk would often cry,...

Milicete Legend Of The Ouangond', Or River St. John.

Though the ebbing ocean listens
To Ugond''s throbbing roar,
Calm the conquering flood-tide glistens
Where the river raved before. [1]
...