from "Songs of the Hebrides"
The seals are the children of the King of Lochlann under spells --
Clann Righ Lochlainn fo gheasaibh. Beauty, wisdom and bravery were in
their blood as well as in their skins, and that was why their step-mother
took the bate of destruction for the, and live she would not unless she got
them out of the way. Seven long years did she spend with a namely magician,
a-learning of the Black Arts, until at last she was as good as her master at
it, with a woman's wit, forby. And what think ye of it! Did not the terrible
carlin put her step-children under eternal spells that they should be
half-fish half-beast so long as waves should beat on the sores of Lochlann!
Och! Och! That was the black deed -- sure you would know by the very eyes of
the seals that there is a kingly blood in them. But the worst is still
untold. Three times in the year, when the full moon is brightest, the seals
must go back to their own natural state, whether they wish it or no. Their
step-mother put this in the spells so that there might be a world of envy
and sorrow in their hearts every time they saw others ruling in the kingdom
which is theirs by right of blood. And if you were to see one of them as
they should be always, if right were kept, you would take the love of your
heart for that one, and if weddings were in your thoughts, sure enough a
wedding there would be. Long ago, and not so long ago either, a man in Canna
was shore-wandering on an autumn night and the moon full, and did he not see
one of the seal lady-lords washing herself in a streamlet that was meeting
the waves! And just as I said, he took the love of his heart for her, and he
went and put deep sleep on her with a sort of charm that he had, and he
carried her home in his arms. But och! och! when she wakening came, what had
he before him but a seal! And though he needed all the goodness he had, love
put softening in his heart, and he carried her down to the sea and let her
swim away to her own kith and kin, where she ought to be. And she spent that
night, it is said, on a reef near the shore, singing like a daft mavis, and
this is one of her croons -- indeed, all the seals are good at the songs,
and though they are really of the race of Lochlann, it is the Gaelic they
like best.
--Kenneth MacLeod
Pillowed on the sea-wrack, brown am I,
On the gleaming white-sheen sand
Lulled by the sweet croon of the waves I lie
Could slumber deep, part thee and me
Far away, my own gruag-ach lone
On the gleaming white-friend reefs
Lies that cause of all my moan
Did slumber deep, part thee and me
On the morrow shall I, o'er the sound
O'er the gleaming white-sheen sand
Swim until I reach my loved one brown
Nor slumber deep, part thee and me