The Scottish Celtic review

—;;!;222 Coir'-a'-Cheafhaich.Around Ruadh Awridh what ringlets clusterFair, long, and crested, and closely twined,This way and that they are lightly waving,At every breath of the mountain wind.The twisted hemlock, the slanted rye-grass.The juicy moor-grass, can all be found,And the close-set groundsel is greenly growingBy the wood where heroes are sleeping sound.In yonder ruin once dwelt Mac Bhaidi,'Tis now a desert where winds are shrillYet the well-shaped brown ox is feeding by it.Among the stones that bestrew the hill.How fine to see, both in light and gloaming.The smooth Clach-Fionn, so still and deep,And the houseless cattle and calves most peaceful,Group'd on the brow of the lonely steep IIn every nook of the mountain pathwayThe garlic-flower may be thickly found,And out on the sunny slopes around itHang berries juicy and red and round :The penny-royal and dandelion,The downy cannach together lieThickly they grow from the base of the mountainTo the topmost crag of his crest so high.And not a crag but is clad most richly.For rich and silvern the soft moss clings,Fine is the moss, most clean and stainless.Hiding the look of unlovely thingsDown in the hollow beneath the summitWhere the verdure is growing most rich and deep,The little daisies are looking upwards,And the yellow primroses often peep.Round every well and every fountainAn eyebrow dark of the cress doth cling,And the sorrel sour gathers in clustersAround the stones whence the waters sprino-With a splash and a plunge and a mountain murmur,The gurgling waters from earth upleap.