The Witch of Keil

This old lady is introduced to us by Mr. F. A. Mackay, in his poem of “The Heir of Lorn.” Moila was her name, and she lived at the beginning of the thirteenth century, though she was popularly supposed to have seen Fingal in his prime, and her wrinkled and tremendously aged face seemed, literally, […]

Red and Strong Is the Blood

THE HARP OF THE GAEL. GAELIC MOD PRIZE POEM. BY REV. DUGALD MACECHERN, B. D. (Translated by Author.) HARP of my own dear country, Trembling against my bosom, Sweeter to me are thy strains Than all of the wide world’s music, Shapely thy curving neck Like the wild swan afloat on the ocean, Gleaming thy sun-bright strings, Like […]

Lightning Pours from Their Sides of Steel

Now I behold the chiefs, in the pride of their former deeds! Their souls are kindled at the battles of old; at the actions of other times. Their eyes are flames of fire. They roll in search of the foes of the land. Their mighty hands are on their swords. Lightning pours from their sides […]