In the pride of their scorn! 'Tis the marrow of health In the forest to lie, Where, nooking in stealth, They enjoy her[113] supply,-- Her fosterage breeding A race never needing, Save the milk of her feeding, From a breast never dry. Her hill-grass they suckle, Her mammets[114] they swill, And in wantonness chuckle O'er tempest and chill; With their ankles so light, And their girdles[115] of white, And their bodies so bright With the drink of the rill. Through the grassy glen sporting In murmurless glee, Nor snow-drift nor fortune Shall urge them to flee, Save to seek their repose In the clefts of the knowes, And the depths of the howes Of their own Eas-an-ti.[116] URLAR. In the forest den, the deer Makes, as best befits, his lair, Where is plenty, and to spare, Of her grassy feast. There she browses free On herbage of the lea, Or marsh grass, daintily, Until her haunch is greased. Her drink is of the well, Where the water-cresses swell, Nor with the flowing shell Is the toper better pleased. The bent makes nobler cheer, Or the rashes of the mere, Than all the creagh that e'er Gave surfeit to a guest. Come, see her table spread; The _sorach_[117] sweet display'd The _ealvi_,[118] and the head Of the daisy stem; The _dorach_[119] crested, sleek, And ringed with many a streak, Presents her pastures meek, Profusely by the stream. Such the luxuries That plump their noble size, And the herd entice To revel in the howes. Nobler haunches never sat on Pride of grease, than when they batten On the forest links, and fatten On the herbs of their carouse. Oh, 'tis pleasant, in the gloaming, When the supper-time Calls all their hosts from roaming, To see their social prime; And when the shadows gather, They lair on native heather, Nor shelter from the weather Need, but the knolls behind. Dread or dark is none; Their 's the mountain throne, Height and slope their own, The gentle mountain kind; Pleasant is the grace Of their hue, and dappled dress, And an ark in their distress, In Bendorain dear they find. SIUBHAL.