A long, long time ago a girl lived in the shadow of the tower of Duart, and the chief looked down from his walls and saw her.

Afterwards they walked together by the shore and through the glens, and he cried her health when he drank in his hall, sitting amongst his tacksmen.

Then what the men whispered the women spoke aloud; and so, more quickly than the tarie is borne, word went to a man of the MacDonalds who loved the Duart maiden.

Not like a lover to his tryst did he come.

In the handle of his dirk the rich stones sparkled as they rose and fell with the rise and fall of the maiden's white bosom.