We pass by the few existing lines of Bishop Carsewell and Sir John Stewart of Appin, who both lived in the sixteenth century, and forthwith emerge upon the new time, the era of modern Gaelic poetry. Almost simultaneously in Scotland and Ireland, a great change took place in the form and complexion of this vernacular poetic literature. From the early part of the seventeenth century, the intricate metres and technicalities of the old bardic system, which had been in vogue for a thousand years, began to be discarded and superseded, and more freedom in versifying introduced. Dr. Douglas Hyde sums up the principles of this new departure in two sentences: first, the adoption of vowel rhyme in place of consonantal rhyme; second, the adoption of a certain number of accents in each line in place of a certain number of syllables. And in consequence of these changes, he holds that the Gaelic poetry of the last two centuries is probably the most sensuous attempt to convey music in words ever made by man. He who has once heard it and remains deaf to its charm can have little heart for song or soul for music. It is absolutely impossible, he says, to convey the lusciousness of sound, richness of rhythm, and perfection of harmony in another language. The sweetest creation of all Gaelic literature, this new outburst of lyric melody was a wonderful arrangement of vowel sounds, so placed that in every accented syllable, first one vowel and then another fell upon the ear in all possible kinds of harmonious modifications. Some verses are made wholly on the à sound, others on the ò, ù, è, or ì sounds, but the majority on a unique and fascinating intermixture of two, three, or more; as, for example, in Mary Macleod’s vowel-rhyming over the drowning of Mac-Ille Chalum in the angry Minch between Stornoway and Raasay:— Mo bhèud, ’s mo bhròn, Mar dh’eirich dhò Muir beucach, mòr, Ag leum mu d’bhòrd, Thu féin, ’s do shèoid ’Nuair reub ’ur seòil, Nach d’fhaod sibh treòir A chaitheadh orr. ’S e an sgeul’ craiteach Do’n mhnaoi a d’fhag thu, ’S do t-aon bhrathair, A shuidh na t’aite, Diluain Càisge, Chaidh tonn bàit ort, Craobh a b’aird’ de’n ubhal thu. To give the effect in English the original has been somewhat freely, though not quite accurately, rendered thus:— My grief, my pain, Relief was vain The seething wave Did leap and rave And reeve in twain, Both sheet and sail, And leave us bare And foundering.