Connected with “John Garbh of Raasay’s Lament,” one of the most famous of pibrochs, and a favourite with most pipers to this day, there are stories of pipers, poetry, and superstition. John Garbh Mac Leod of Raasay met his death about 1650 at the early age of 21. He was a man of fine appearance and great strength. He had been to Lewis on a visit to a friend, and when he was returning home to Skye the day was so stormy that his crew were very unwilling to put to sea, being afraid they would lose their lives. Raasay thereupon exclaimed to the boatman in the Gaelic:—“Son of fair Muireil, are you afraid?” and the man at once threw his fears aside, and with the reply—“No, no, Raasay, we shall share the same fate to-day,” began to prepare for the voyage. All went well until off Trotternish, the people of which anxiously watched the boat. The wind increased still more, and a heavy shower hid the vessel from their sight. When it cleared off the boat was nowhere to be seen. Mac Leod’s untimely fate was deeply mourned, and Patrick _Mòr_ Mac Crimmon commemorated the sad event by composing the famous and pathetic pibroch. A celebrated Skye poetess also composed a touching lament, and a sister of Mac Crimmon’s composed an elegy, the English of which goes as follows:— “Sitting idly I sorrow, Heavy hearted and ailing; I am songless and cheerless, I am weary and wailing. Since the day of my sorrow I am weary with wailing, Since the loss of the boatie Where the hero was sailing. Since the loss of the boatie, Where the hero was sailing; Oh, strong was his shoulder, Though the sea was prevailing. Oh, strong was his shoulder, Though the sea was prevailing; Now he lies in the clachan Whom I am bewailing. Now he lies in the clachan Whom I am bewailing, And a green grassy curtain His cold bed is veiling. And a green grassy curtain His cold bed is veiling. His sword in its scabbard The rust is assailing. His sword in its scabbard The rust is assailing; His hounds on their leashes Their speed unavailing. His hounds on their leashes Their speed unavailing; No more shall my hero His mountains be scaling. No more shall my hero His mountains be scaling; Sitting sadly I sorrow, Heavy hearted and ailing.”