Macintyre’s best compositions are those which are descriptive of forest scenes, and those which he dedicated to the praise of his wife.  His verses are, however, very numerous, and embrace a vast variety of subjects.  From the extraordinary diffusiveness of his descriptions, and the boundless luxuriance of his expressions, much difficulty has been experienced in reproducing his strains in the English idiom.

MAIRI BHAN OG.

MARY, THE YOUNG, THE FAIR-HAIR’D.

My young, my fair, my fair-hair’d Mary,
My life-time love, my own! 
The vows I heard, when my kindest dearie
Was bound to me alone,
By covenant true, and ritual holy,
Gave happiness all but divine;
Nor needed there more to transport me wholly,
Than the friends that hail’d thee mine.

* * * * *

’Twas a Monday morn, and the way that parted
Was far, but I rivall’d the wind,
The troth to plight with a maiden true-hearted,
That force can never unbind. 
I led her apart, and the hour that we reckon’d,
While I gain’d a love and a bride,
I heard my heart, and could tell each second,
As its pulses struck on my side.

* * * * *

I told my ail to the foe that pain’d me,
And said that no salve could save;
She heard the tale, and her leech-craft it sain’d me,
For herself to my breast she gave.

* * * * *

Forever, my dear, I ’ll dearly adore thee
For chasing away, away,
My fancy’s delusion, new loves ever choosing,
And teaching no more to stray. 
I roam’d in the wood, many a tendril surveying,
All shapely from branch to stem,
My eye, as it look’d, its ambition betraying
To cull the fairest from them;
One branch of perfume, in blossom all over,
Bent lowly down to my hand,
And yielded its bloom, that hung high from each lover,
To me, the least of the band. 
I went to the river, one net-cast I threw in,
Where the stream’s transparence ran,
Forget shall I never, how the beauty[108] I drew in,
Shone bright as the gloss of the swan. 
Oh, happy the day that crown’d my affection
With such a prize to my share! 
My love is a ray, a morning reflection,
Beside me she sleeps, a star.

[108] Gaelic, “gealag”—­descriptive of the salmon, from its glossy brightness.

BENDOURAIN, THE OTTER MOUNT.

Bendourain is a forest scene in the wilds of Glenorchy.  The poem, or lay, is descriptive, less of the forest, or its mountain fastnesses, than of the habits of the creatures that tenant the locality—­the dun-deer, and the roe.  So minutely enthusiastic is the hunter’s treatment of his theme, that the attempt to win any favour for his performance from the Saxon reader, is attended with no small risk,—­although