Books and other items printed in Gaelic from 1871 to 1900 > Gaelic bards, and original poems

DUGALD BUCHANAN.
91
THE SKULL.
The grave was new-made,
And a skull had been laid,
Close to its brink on the ground,
I stooped where it lay,
And my tears welled away
As I raised it, and turned it around.
No beauty was there,
No knowledge, no care
Of the men that passed it by—
Its jaws both were bare,
And no tongue now could e’er
In its empty mouth sing melody.
Yet this cheek once was red.
And thick locks clothed this head,
And this ear once could list to my song;
And these nostrils could smell,
That damp earth soon and well,
Now so weak where they all were so strong.
There no lustrous orb glows,
And no lids ope or close;
There’s no sight the known pathway to trace ;
But the gross worms instead
Have for long made their bed,
And dug holes in the eyes’ wonted place.
Aye, such looks will not show,
What thou wast long ago;
Whether King’s skull or Duke’s I now hold:
Alexander the Great
Thus owns no more state
Than his slave on the dunghill cold.