Matheson Collection > Gaelic songs of Mary MacLeod

Lament
for Sir Norman MacLeod
Sad and heart-sore my weeping, for I find myself to-
night without rest, without peace, without cheer;
With no will for aught that profiteth, without hope to be
well; my joy is vanished for ever more.
My substance hath waxed listless, cause of my grief each
day, as ever I recount the ways of my dear one;
My grief for Roderick's son of galleys, his a hand to
lavish wealth, who esteemed the minstrel's lay.
It is thinking of thee that hath tortured my body, and
wasted the lashes from mine eyes;
Thinking sadly and sorrowfully, and ever vainly recalling
thee, and longing for thee as well thou didst deserve;
Longing for my dear MacLeod, as he lies wrapped in
his thin shroud of satin, with no cover at his side save
boards.
Since the day thy mouth was sealed, minstrels have gone
in want, whenas thou thyself wouldst have scattered ja^^'
riches. ^ ^ _
The bards have spread a report of thee, far as their ^^.^-I'lr^*^
steps have led, that a countenance more liberal they "^PHlfit*^^
never saw. *"*