Page:Selections from Ancient Irish Poetry - Meyer.djvu/43

 Behind it was a well of wine, Beer and bragget in streams,
 * Each full pool to the taste.

Malt in smooth wavy sea Over a lard-spring's brink
 * Flowed through the floor.

A lake of juicy pottage Under a cream of oozy lard
 * Lay 'twixt it and the sea.

Hedges of butter fenced it round, Under a crest of white-mantled lard
 * Around the wall outside.

A row of fragrant apple-trees, An orchard in its pink-tipped bloom,
 * Between it and the hill.

A forest tall of real leeks, Of onions and of carrots, stood
 * Behind the house.

Within, a household generous, A welcome of red, firm-fed men,
 * Around the fire:

Seven bead-strings and necklets seven Of cheeses and of bits of tripe
 * Round each man's neck.

The Chief in cloak of beefy fat Beside his noble wife and fair
 * I then beheld.

Below the lofty caldron's spit Then the Dispenser I beheld,
 * His fleshfork on his back.

Wheatlet son of Milklet, Son of juicy Bacon,
 * Is mine own name.