'Twas bold MacCodrum of the Seals--
The man who ne'er took fright--
Would watch it bounding from the hills
And o'er the moors in flight.
When it would leave the Uist shore,
Across the Minch he heard it roar--
Like yon black cloud it bounded o'er
The Coolin Hills that night.




THE WATER-HORSE.


O the Water-Horse will come over the heath,
With the foaming mouth and the flashing eyes,
He's black above and he's white beneath--
The hills are hearing the awesome cries;
The sand lies thick in his dripping hair,
And his hoofs are twined with weeds and ware.

Alas! for the man who would clutch the mane--
There's no spell to help and no charm to save!
Who rides him will never return again,
Were he as strong, O were he as brave
As Fin-mac-Coul, of whom they'll tell--
He thrashed the devil and made him yell.