And they said, 'He is young, the lad we love,
The heir of the Isles is young:
How we deem of his mother, and one gone above,
Can neither be said nor sung.
 
'He brings us a pledge—he will do his part
With the best of his race and name;'—
And I will, for I look to live, sweetheart,
As may suit with my mother's fame.