The Scottish Celtic review

^^x :y320 Mac-Griogalr d Riuiro (Mac-Origor of Roro).(Translation of the above by Principal Shairp, St. Andrews, communicatedBT Rev. Dr. Macmillan, Greenock).There is sorrow, deep sorrow.Heavy sorrow down-weighs me ;Sorrow long, dark, forlorn,Whence nothing can raise me.Yea ! my heart's filled with sorrow,Deep sorrow, undying,For MacGrigor of Roro,AYhose home was GlenlyoD.For the bannered MacGrigorSo bravely who bore him,With the roar of the war-pipeLoud thundering before him.His emblem the pine treeOn mountain-side swinging ;His trim-tapered arrowsThe true bird was winging :Keen shafts that a king's sonMight glory in bearing ;From MacMurdoch's strong handHome they sped, how unerring !Now I will not complainThough a coward should smite me ;Should they outrage and wrong nie,O heaven ! who shall right me ?'Tis my pain they're not here,Whom living, naught ailed me ;East in yon chapel lieThe true hearts that ne'er failed me :Their fair heads are low,My dear foster brothers.Them the scant linen shroudIn strait bed birely covers,—Linen shroud with no bandsNor silk tassels made ready,Nor sewed by the fingersOf nobly born lady.Now a rede I would rede thee,And thereon well think thouWhen thou goest to the hostelBut a single cup drink thou.Stand and drink ;— of the menThat are round thee be wary ;Be it bale-dish or ladle.Drink it down, nothing chary.Make winter as autumn,The wolf-days as summer ;Thy bed be tlie bare rock,And light be thy slumber.For though scarce be the squirrel,There's a way got to find her ;Though proud be the falcon.There are deft hands can bind her.There is sorrow, deep sorrow,Heavy sorrow down-weighs me ;Sorrow long, dark, forlorn.Whence nothing can raise me.MACGREGOR OF RORO.—MACGREGOR'S LAMENT.Very slow, wUhfcelinr/. From the ThUtlc, Kilited by Colin Brown. Mode of 2—1.d' :d' :r'.d',r