IIIFraoch mac Fiodhaich an airm ghéir
Tháinig o’n phéist gun fhios di, Thug a h-anultach chaor dearg Far an robh Meadhbh dh’ a tigh.
"Ach ge maith na tugais leat,"
Adubhairt Meadhbh as geal cruth,
"Ni fhóir mis, a laoich luain
Ach slat a bhuain as a bun."
Togras Fraoch, ’s nior ghille tiom, Shnámh a rís air an linn bhuig Is nior fheud [ne]ach 61 ge mór ágh Theachd o’n bhás an robh a chuid.
Gabhas an caorrann air bharr,
Tharruing an crann as a fhrèimh, Tabhairt dó [a] chos do’n tór Mothaicheas do ris a’ phéist.
Beireas air agus e air snamh, Is gabhas a lamh ’na craos,
Do ghabh se-san is’ air ghiall, Truagh gun an sgian aig Fraoch!
Find-abair of lovely tresses
For Sir Fraoch her love, Unperceived, a knife she bore;
61 or, ach = howsoever.
Fraoch's fai
