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

94
MODERN GAELIC BARDS.
Now the poor drudge,
Free of rent and of judge,
Unrespecting lies down by thy side :
Great praise be to Death,
Who so soon stopt thy breath, ■
Nor ’neath the sod suffered thy pride.
Or once in this head
Was godly faith fed—
Didst thou walk in the way of the wise ;
Then, though thou liest there,
So naked and bare,
Without nose or tongue or eyes.
Be bold,—do not grieve,
For yet thou shalt leave
At the sound of the trumpet blast,
This baseness behind,
With the earth-worm that’s blind,
When the grave and its power is past.
The opening stanzas of Buchanan’s Spiritual Song,
called “Winter,” are as follows. After giving a de¬
scription of the season, the poet moralizes over it, and
applies it according to his manner:—
The Summer now leaves us,
And near Winter grieves us—
Vegetation’s true foe;
For our havoc who’s braced,
When for spoil thus he rises,
All grace he despises,
Free of softness and pity,
Full of plunder and waste.