Ossian Collection > Reliquiae Celticae > Volume 2

BOOK OF CLANRAXAI.D
•245
Donald, thou ;irt my ureat courage,
My supporter in combat wlien at my back ;
My jewel in whom I take delight,
Thou art my full star and my new ai)plc.
My victorious tree who art esteemed,
My own heart is that elegant man with curled liair ;
The son of a prince from whom knowledge was not concealed.
My battle belt is that intrepid fair drop.
Our water fountain that never runs dry,
Our arms of war to subdue.
The cause of our mirth, our freedom of joy.
The precious ale which is drunk out of gold [goblets].
He is my sword and my rare slender spear.
My choice of the Gael and the Gall ;
He has in keeping a good disposition towards me,
And the desire of my eyes is to see him there.
By hereditary descent we have been with his people,
We have done our best endeavours through hope ;
1 deny not that my strength is from thine ancestry.
Through thee I obtain right and justice.
It is right to welcome a man of thy news.
Elegy on Donald of Moydart, who died 168(5.^
There is an end to the pleasures of the Isles,
The death of one man causes a burning bare ;
It is, however, but the beginning of sorrow.
Causing melancholy throughout the bounds.
Since the death of the champion of the blood of Conn
There is no heax't without a sore wound.
Without honour from others for the clan.
Easy ever to accept their pledge.
The son of John of Moydart, the great, the active :
The shortness of his life is my bitter pain :
Sad is my condition after the man,
'Tis that has consumed my flesh and l)lood.
I have not seen one like him
In aifability, in purity of nature,
1 See al)ove, pp. 208, 209.