The _Birlin_ has been translated by Sheriff Nicolson, and a part by Professor Blackie. The complete translation of Pattison was the first and is still the best. This poem is a master-piece of Gaelic poetry, and presents peculiar difficulties to the translator. After this “Blessing of the Ship,” the “Blessing of the Arms,” we have in the third part an incitement for rowing to a sailing place. The rowers are asked with a powerful sweep to Wound the huge swell on the ocean meadow, Rolling and deep. With your sharp narrow blades white and slender, Strike its big breast; Hirsute and brawny, and rippled and hilly, And never at rest. O, stretch, and bend, and draw, young gallants! Forward going! Let your fists’ broad grasp be whitening In your rowing! Ye lusty, heavy, stalwart youngsters! Stretch your full length; With shoulders knotty, nervy, hairy, Hard with strength; See you raise and drop together With one motion. Your grey and beamy shafts well ordered, Sweeping ocean. In this spirit the poem extends to more than 500 lines, divided into 16 parts, until finally the voyage of the Birlin ends somewhat like that of St. Paul. Till within recent years the practice of walking cloth in peasant homes was a general thing. The writer has often witnessed it in the north as well as in the south Highlands, in places where walking mills did not extinguish the ancient ways of Highland women. The “MORAG” of Macdonald was a “Walking Refrain,” or song for a young woman of fair bewitching tresses. In history her _alias_ is Prince Charlie whose adventures touched the hearts of women, bards and weak-minded statesmen. “Ho Morag” in other words is a treasonable prayer, adoration, or incitement for Jacobitically-minded Highlanders and others. The bard’s heart was evidently in this wretched and ill-starred rebellion; but it ought not to be forgotten that if the poet’s heart tended to disloyalty he had thousands of titled traitors and sympathisers close to the Hanoverian throne. The Jacobite bard rushes with inexhaustible enthusiasm into the “walking” labours of the Highland women as their thoughts travel after the fair adventurer: Bright Morag of my heart’s emotion I long to see thy yellow tresses. Yes; and Ho Morag, child of love, Beloved of many. If thou art gone across the ocean Return to help in our distresses. Yes; and Ho Morag, &c. Bring back a set of winsome beauties To walk the red cloth well and tightly. Yes; and Ho Morag, &c. O! here at home amid thy duties Thy linen would be clean and sprightly. Yes; and Ho Morag, &c.