Classic Poem

Well fare the Earl's hand
that presented me
with the sword I got on Wednesday
in Taymouth;
of forged steel, victorious, pleasing,
a sharp, thin brand
that will not bend or buckle, be notched
or be distorted.

A backsword that achieved renown,
though it was tested,
oft it gave a trenchant blow
by valiant hand;
true Islay hilt, strong, protective,
and blade to suit it:
'twould cleave an apple on water
by sheer sharpness.

Blue-tinted sword of triple fluting
that was exercised in wounding;
'twould help a gentleman to have it in his grasp,
were he rising with the war host;
it would sit trimly on a war host;
when he donned his full equipment,
and the shoulder strap would bear it
over the belted tartan.

When the world was in a turmoil,
'twas in the camp it oft was present;
and its bearer never turned
his back to his foe;

each man who drew it from scabbard
had victory on every field;
'tis the best that ever came from smithy,
and that was made by Andrea Ferrara.

Andrea wrought the goodly piece of work
that would gratify each Gael's desire;
handsome it is on the thigh,
and not inferior in the hand for exploit;
for a space the Fianna had it —
fierce men these on fields of battle;
'twas originally made for Diarmaid,
and 'tis Diarmaid's race that has it.