Ossian Collection > Selections from the Gaelic bards

DUNCAN BAN MACINTYRE. 53
BEN DORAIN.
The honour o'er each hill
Hath Ben Dorain ;
Scene, to me, the sweetest still
That day dawns upon :
Its long moor's level way,
And its nooks whence wild deer stray,
To the lustre on the brae
Oft I 've lauded them.
Dear to me its dusky boughs.
In the wood where green grass gTows,
And the stately herd repose,
Or there wander slow ;
But the troops with bellies white.
When the chase comes into sight,
Then I love to watch their flight,
Going nosily.
The stag is airy, brisk, and light.
And no pomp has he;
Though his garb 's the fashion quite,
Never haughty he :
Yet a mantle 's round him spread.
Not soon threadbare, then shed,
And its hue as wax is red —
Fairly clothing him.
The delight I felt to rise
At the morning's call !
And to see the troops I prize
The hills thronging all :
Ten score with stately tread,
And with light uplifted head,