O! 's priseil, laidir, a ghibhte 'dh-fhag sinn-- 'S mios'da Ghaeltachd bàs an t-seoid, Tha Mhachair tursach bho n' chaidh an uir ort, 'S tu dh-fhuasgladh cuis do gach cuirt mu bhord, Bha 'Ghalldachd deurach ri cainnt ma d' dheighinn, Gu ruig Dun-eidin nan steud 's nan cleoc, 'S cha ghabhainn gealtachd, air son a chantuinn, Gur call do Bhreatuinn nach eil thu beo. 'S tu chraobh a b'aillidh bha 'n tus a gharaidh 'S i ùr a fas ann fuidh bhlath 's fuidh dhos, O! 's truagh a dh-fhag thu ma thuath na Gaidheil Mar uain gun mhathair ni'n sgath ri frois, 'S tu b'urr' an tearnadh bho chunnart gabhaidh, 'S an curaidh laidir, chuireadh spairn na tost, Tha 'n tuath gu craiteach, 's na h-uaislean càsai, 'S bho 'n chaidh am fàd ort 's truagh gair nam bochd. "_Ma ta 's math sibh fhein Alastair Bhuidhe; 's grinn comhnard a bhardachd a th'air a mharbhrainn, ach cha 'n eil i dad nas fhearr na thoill brod a Ghaidheil agus am fior dhuin' uasal dha'n d'rinn sibh i," arsa Ruairidh Mor._ (Well done yourself, _Alastair Buidhe_, the composition of the Elegy is beautifully elegant and even, but not any better than the memory of the best of Highlanders and the truest of gentlemen, to whom you composed it, deserved, said Big Rory). This was the general verdict of the circle. Norman was now called upon to fulfil his part of the arrangement, which he promptly did by giving the Legend, of which the following is a translation:-- THE RAID OF CILLIECHRIOST.