Lament for Moraig.
Cold blow the winds on the heights of Ben Loyal,1
Dense are the mists drifting up from the sea ;2
But colder by far are the hands of my Moraig,3
And denser the veil ’twixt my true love and me.4
Winds in the corries, go wail for my Moraig !5
Wail for her ! Wail for her !6
Sea-birds, whose music is ever a crying,7
Cry for her ! Cry for her !8
When on Ben Loyal the spring morn was dawning,9
And high on the hill-tops young deer were at play,10
We stood where the burn in the heather sings clearest11
And plighted our love-troth for aye and for aye.12
Down by the burnside my Moraig knelt, laughing,13
Held up her hands with clear water to me :14
‘ Drink of it, lad ! May the burn cease its running15
Or ever thy Moraig be faithless to thee !’16
Streams of the mountains, that day were ye singing17
Songs of the gladness our lives held in store ?18
Streams of the mountains, be silent and sing not.19
Moraig ! my Moraig ! will hear you no more.20
High were our hopes in the gold of spring’s dawning,21
Fearless our hearts as the clear sky o’erhead ;22
Now at my feet are the brown birch-leaves lying,23
Now in the autumn my Moraig is dead.24
Dark loom the clouds sinking down o’er Ben Loyal,25
Gray are the mists drifting up from the sea ;26
But darker by far is the life that is left me,27
And all days for ever are gray days to me.28
Winds in the corries, go wail for my Moraig !29
Wail for her ! Wail for her !30
Sea-birds, whose music is ever a crying,31
Cry for her ! Cry for her !32
Cry evermore for her !33