song of his has been highly popular, mainly because of the sweet air that is attached to it. The following verses will show the manner of the song, _Och a rùin gur tu air m’aire_:— Each day I sigh here a lonely stranger, I cannot sing with my heart love-laden; I was right foolish to give my promise To her of Canna, the youthful maiden. It was with gladness I left the island, Home of my childhood and my devotion, To seek the gold here that may be found not In those bare islands amid the ocean. How proud and happy I was with Allan Beginning work in the gray of morning; ’Twere better far to be there than labour A lonely stranger ’neath Lowland scorning. I would not stay in my native island, To my ambition the land was narrow; When Lowland lasses inquire in English, I say in Gaelic, “I came from Barra.” This song is so painfully simple and commonplace, notwithstanding its popularity, that it can scarcely bear translation at all, unless the translator is permitted to introduce some of the stock sentiment and phraseology of the muse. One of MacLean’s best pieces is on the _Laird of Coll’s Boat_. Another of more than average merit was written shortly after his arrival in Nova Scotia. It shows the bard ill at ease in his new surroundings in the _Coille Ghruamach_, or Gloomy Wood. It opens thus:— I stray alone in these woods of shadows, My thoughts are restless, I feel in pain; This place conflicts with the laws of nature, My strength forsakes me in heart and brain. I cannot sing the old songs of Albin, My bosom saddens to hear their strain; My Gaelic dies since I speak no longer That tongue still cherished beyond the main. Alas! small wonder although I sorrow Behind the hills in this gloomy wood, In this lone desert by Barney’s River, _With bare potatoes alone for food_. Ere cultivation is seen rejoicing O’er all the land and the trees are cleared, My strength will fail in an arm exhausted While yet the children are left unreared. MacLean is one of the last of the old order of bards. His poetry shows little or no trace of English reading; and the theme of the majority of his poems is the praise of the Laird of Coll or some kindred chieftain. Very appropriately might the happy couplet of Sir Walter Scott describing the old and infirm minstrels of other days be applied to MacLean— “A simple race! they waste their toil, For the vain tribute of a smile.” It ought to be mentioned, however, that the Laird of Coll showed on more than one occasion that he did not forget his enthusiastic senachie. [Illustration: (decorative end-of-chapter icon)] CHAPTER XIV. POPULAR SONGS.