J. F. Campbell Collection > Selections from the Gaelic bards

UStJIANIC' POETRY. 1;>7
Who is this frieud that would soothe my grief?
Who comes my age to cheer?
I know that light stej) and that gentle approach —
It is thou, my daughter dear!
Daughter! a time Avas when I, now so weak,
Cpuld speed in the wild roe's flight :
Wh^h I, now so blind, could the beacon descry
Far oft' in the dim dark night.
The time has been when, with sounding step,
Away with the chieftains I'd wend;
Though this night thou must see me so lonely and sad,
Without father, son, or friend.
My son ! my hero ! how mournful the tale
Wliich Cona's slow wave tells of thee !
And Fingal and Fillan are all pass'd away —
Not one of the leaders I see.
Alas ! and my sight too has faded.
Nought around I descry, or above ;
Gone is the hue of my youth — all is gone ;
But the grave cannot alter my love.
White-handed maiden ! this night though you see me
Old and forlorn in this place,
Renown'd have I been as a hero
In my youth, with the bloom on my face.
On that day when soft-hair'd Evir-Alin,
White-arm'd maiden follow'd me,
Daughter of Bran no of the silver beakers.
Of many loved, herself of love still free.
Sons of kings and sons of nobles,
She refused them great or small;