SIUBHAL.

So brilliant thy hue
With tendril and flow’ret,
The grace of the view,
What land can o’erpower it? 
Thou mountain of beauty,
Methinks it might suit thee,
The homage of beauty
To claim as a queen. 
What needs it?  Adoring
Thy reign, we see pouring
The wealth of their store in
Already, I ween. 
The seasons—­scarce roll’d once,
Their gifts are twice told—­
And the months, they unfold
On thy bosom their dower,
With profusion so rare,
Ne’er was clothing so fair,
Nor was jewelling e’er
Like the bud and the flower
Of the groves on thy breast,
Where rejoices to rest
His magnificent crest,
The mountain-cock, shrilling
In quick time, his note;
And the clans of the grot
With melody’s note,
Their numbers are trilling. 
No foot can compare,
In the dance of the green,
With the roebuck’s young heir;
And here he is seen
With his deftness of speed,
And his sureness of tread,
And his bend of the head,
And his freedom of spring! 
Over corrie careers he,
The wood-cover clears he,
And merrily steers he
With bound, and with fling,—­
As he spurns from his stern
The heather and fern,
And dives in the dern[120]
Of the wilderness deep;
Or, anon, with a strain,
And a twang of each vein
He revels amain
’Mid the cliffs of the steep. 
With the burst of a start
When the flame of his heart
Impels to depart,
How he distances all! 
Two bounds at a leap,
The brown hillocks to sweep,
His appointment to keep
With the doe, at her call. 
With her following, the roe
From the danger of ken
Couches inly, and low,
In the haunts of the glen;
Ever watchful to hear,
Ever active to peer,
Ever deft to career,—­
All ear, vision, and limb. 
And though Cult[121] and Cuchullin,
With their horses and following,
Should rush to her dwelling,
And our prince[122] in his trim,
They might vainly aspire
Without rifle and fire
To ruffle or nigh her,
Her mantle to dim. 
Stark-footed, lively,
Ever capering naively
With motion alive, aye,
And wax-white, in shine,
When her startle betrays
That the hounds are in chase,
The same as the base
Is the rocky decline—­
She puffs from her chest,
And she ambles her crest
And disdain is express’d
In her nostril and eye;—­
That eye—­how it winks! 
Like a sunbeam it blinks,
And it glows, and it sinks,
And is jealous and shy! 
A mountaineer lynx,
Like her race that ’s gone by.

CRUNLUATH (FINALE).

Her lodge is in the valley—­here
No huntsman, void of notion,
Should hurry on the fallow deer,
But steal on her with caution;—­
With wary step and watchfulness
To stalk her to her resting place,
Insures the gallant wight’s success,
Before she is in motion.