The Bard, expelled from the dwellings of men by plunderers according to one account, by a discontented helpmate according to another, is placed in a lone out-house, where he meets an owl which he supposes himself to engage in an interchange of sentiment respecting the olden time:-- HUNTER. O wailing owl of Strona's vale! We wonder not thy night's repose Is mournful, when with Donegal In distant years thou first arose: O lonely bird! we wonder not, For time the strongest heart can bow, That thou should'st heave a mournful note, Or that thy sp'rit is heavy now! OWL. Thou truly sayest I lone abide, I lived with yonder ancient oak, Whose spreading roots strike deep and wide Amidst the moss beside the rock; And long, long years have gone at last, And thousand moons have o'er me stole, And many a race before me past, Still I am Strona's lonely owl! HUNTER. Now, since old age has come o'er thee, Confess, as to a priest, thy ways; And fearless tell thou unto me The glorious tales of bygone days. OWL. Rapine and falsehood ne'er I knew, Nor grave nor temples e'er have torn, My youthful mate still found me true-- Guiltless am I although forlorn! I 've seen brave Britto's son, the wild, The powerful champion, Fergus, too, Gray-haired Foradden, Strona's child-- These were the heroes great and true! HUNTER. Thou hast well began, but tell to me, And say what further hast thou known! E'er Donegal abode with thee, In the Fersaid these all were gone! OWL. Great Alexander of the spears, The mightiest chief of Albyn's race, Oft have I heard his voice in cheers From the green hill-side speed the chase; I saw him after Angus brave-- Nor less a noble warrior he-- Fersaid his home, his work he gave Unto the Mill of Altavaich. HUNTER. From wild Lochaber, then, the sword With war's dread inroads swept apace; Where, gloomy-brow'd and ancient bird, Was then thy secret hiding-place? OWL. When the fierce sounds of terror burst, And plunder'd herds were passing on, I turn'd me from the sight accurst Unto the craig Gunaoch lone; Some of my kindred by the lands Of Inch and Fersaid sought repose, Some by Loch Laggan's lonely sands, Where their lamenting cries arose! Here follows a noble burst of poetical fervour in praise of the lonely rock, and the scenes of the huntsman's youth. The green plains, the wild harts, the graceful beauty of the brown deer, and the roaring stag, with the banners, ensigns, and streamers of the race of Cona,--all share in the poet's admiration. The following constitutes the exordium of the poem:--