The tenants and peasantry did not omit the Irish dance, the _Rinceadh-Fada_, which was danced with great spirit and grace in front of the windows of the baronial hall. Old Cormac was now summoned to assist at the ceremonies and the gaiety of the hall. Upon command to attend, his remark was--"Weel, weel, 'twas anely as I expected!" He immediately hastened to the festive scene, and brought with him a Scotch harper, old Donald, who had been a retainer in the family of Bruce, and whom the intelligence of the nuptials that were that day to be solemnized had brought into the neighbourhood. Here a polite and courteous contest arose between the minstrels, each standing upon etiquette, and quite ready to award to the other the right of precedence; however, this posing point, _d'embarras_, was at length finally settled by Donald's declaring, that "he wad na pla' at a' afore maister Cormac." So, _volens, nolens_, old Cormac seized his harp, and thus began, accompanying his instrument with the following verses:-- May plenty, peace, long bless the isle Where pity's tear can woe beguile! Erin! the nations envy thee, From scorpion, snake, and viper free; Thy sacred saint's high potency! Where beauty with Hygeia dwells, Fell Discord flies these happy dells; Where plaintive thrills thy island lyre, Where kindling glows the social fire; And jocund Hymen crowns the scene, While pipes the shepherd's tuneful reed, From his straw cottage on the mead, And smiles each valley green! Cormac sung the foregoing simple lines in order that he might be entitled to call upon old Donald; who now being left without an apology, and endeavouring to recollect a song, after a short pause the Scottish minstrel struck his harp, and thus began:-- I THOUGHT ON DISTANT HAME! Ah! while I saftly tuned my sang, The hawthorn's hoary bloom amang, I thought on friends I lov'd sae lang; I thought on distant hame! I thought on those I lov'd when young, Of those wha died the wars amang, Of those for whom the knell had rang, Far frae their happy home! I thought of those on foreign shore, Beneath the tempest's dreadful roar, Wha sank frae waves to rise nae mo', To hail their distant hame! I thought on the auld parent's smart, Sorrowing his anely bairn to part, Whase face nae mair shall cheer his heart, Nor joy the parent's hame! I thought on the hapless maiden's woe, Her true-love doom'd to see nae mo', Her reason tint beneath the blow, And desolate her hame! Then through this warld where e'er I stray, In winter's gloam, or simmer's ray; I'll sigh for a' wha far awa' Like me regret their hame!