A mhic mo mhic ’s e thubhairt an righ, Oscair, a righ nan òg fhlath, Chunnaic mi dealradh do lainne ’s b’e m’ uaill ’Bhi ’g amharc do bhuaidh ’s a chath. Lean gu dlù ri cliù do shinnsircachd ’S na dìbir a bhi mar iadsan. ’N uair bu bheò Treunmhor nan rath, ’Us Trathull athair nan treun laoch, Chuir iad gach cath le buaidh, ’Us bhuannaich iad cliù gach teugbhail. ’Us mairidh an iomradh ’s an dàn Air chuimhn’ aig na baird an déigh so. O! Oscair, claoidh thus’ an treun-armach, ’S thoir tearmunn do’n lag-lamhach, fheumach; Bi mar bhuinne-shruth reothairt geamhraidh Thoirt gleachd do naimhdibh na Feinn, Ach mar fhann-ghaoth sheimh, thlàth, shambraidh, Bi dhoibhsan a shireas do chabhar. Mar sin bha Treunmhor nam buadh, S bha Trathull nan ruag ’n a dheigh ann, S bha Fionn ’na thaic do ’n fhann G a dhion o ainneart luchd-eucoir. ’N a aobhar shininn mo lamh, Le failte rachainn ’n a choinnimh, ’Us gheibheadh e fasgath ’us caird, Fo sgàil dhrithlinneach mo loinne. _English Translation._ ADDRESS OF FINGAL TO OSCAR. Son of my son, so said the king, Oscar, prince of youthful heroes, I have seen the glitter of thy blade, and ’twas my pride To see thy triumph in the conflict. Cleave thou fast to the fame of thine ancestors, And do not neglect to be like them. When Treunmor the fortunate lived, And Trathull the father of warriors, They fought each field triumphantly, And won the fame in every fight. And their names shall flourish in the song Commemorated henceforth by the bards. Oh! Oscar, crush thou the armed hero, But spare the feeble and the needy; Be as the rushing winter, spring-tide, stream, Giving battle to the foes of the Fingalians, But as the gentle, soothing, summer breeze To such as seek for thy help. Such was Treunmor of victories, And Trathull of pursuits, thereafter, And Fingal was a help to the weak, To save him from the power of the oppressor. In his cause I would stretch out my hand, With a welcome I would go to meet him, And he should find shelter and friendship Beneath the glittering shade of my sword. The above is a true relic of the ancient Ossianic poetry, full of power and full of life, and indicates the existence of a refinement among the ancient Celts for which the opponents of Macpherson would not give them credit. Gillies tells us that his collection was made from gentlemen in every part of the Highlands. It is perhaps the most interesting collection of Highland song which we possess.