But rising, while all sat silent on the spot, He said, 'The law says--doth it not?-- If the foster-sire elect His portion to reject, He may then the right exact To applot The short eric.' ''Tis the law,' replied the Brehons of Tirawley. Said the Lynott, 'I once before had a choice Proposed me, wherein law had little voice; But now I choose, and say, As lawfully I may, I applot the mulct to-day; So rejoice In your ploughlands And your cattle which I renounce throughout Tirawley. 'And thus I applot the mulct: I divide The land throughout Clan Barrett on every side Equally, that no place May be without the face Of a foe of Wattin's race-- That the pride Of the Barretts May be humbled hence for ever throughout Tirawley. 'I adjudge a seat in every Barrett's hall To MacWilliam: in every stable I give a stall To MacWilliam: and, beside, Whenever a Burke shall ride Through Tirawley, I provide At his call Needful grooming, Without charge from any Brughaidh of Tirawley. 'Thus lawfully I avenge me for the throes Ye lawlessly caused me and caused those Unhappy shame-faced ones Who, their mothers expected once, Would have been the sires of sons-- O'er whose woes Often weeping, I have groaned in my exile from Tirawley. 'I demand not of you your manhoods; but I take-- For the Burkes will take it--your Freedom! for the sake Of which all manhood's given And all good under heaven, And, without which, better even You should make Yourselves barren, Than see your children slaves throughout Tirawley! 'Neither take I your eyesight from you; as you took Mine and ours: I would have you daily look On one another's eyes When the strangers tyrannize By your hearths, and blushes arise, That ye brook Without vengeance The insults of troops of Tibbots throughout Tirawley! 'The vengeance I designed, now is done, And the days of me and mine nearly run-- For, for this, I have broken faith, Teaching him who lies beneath This pall, to merit death; And my son To his father Stands pledged for other teaching in Tirawley.' Said MacWilliam--'Father and son, hang them high!' And the Lynott they hang'd speedily; But across the salt water, To Scotland, with the daughter Of MacWilliam--well you got her! Did you fly Edmund Lindsay, The gentlest of all the Welshmen of Tirawley!